The Ring of Gold
by KevinVoigt
Summary: [COMPLETED] Instead of peace and harmony, Voldemort's fall has created a world of uncertainty and chaos. The Death Eaters are dwindling, waging a hopeless battle without the Dark Lord to lead them. A new conflict is coming, and Ginny finds herself caught
1. The Incident at the Golden Gate

**Chapter 1**

**The Incident at the Golden Gate**

The world flickered into existence around her. She felt disoriented for a moment, but as her vision cleared and she found her feet, she slowly recognized her surroundings.

She was standing in the corner of a rather large, long hall. The walls and floor were covered in rich, dark wood that reflected the deep blue light shining from the ceiling. Some distance to her left was a large fountain with a group of golden figures at its center, and close at hand to her right was a large golden gate. Between her and the gate was a large desk with an old, exhausted-looking wizard slumped behind it. He was lazily paging through twenty or more slips of parchment skewered on a small spike in front of him.

She had been here before. It was the grand Entrance Hall to the Ministry of Magic. At the moment, she was standing just outside the security gate. It was late in the day, so the guard wizard at the desk had very little to do. There were still a respectable number of wizards moving through the gate. Right now, there were more leaving than arriving, yet not so many that any queues were forming for the fireplaces on the far wall.

It was a difficult thing to judge, but it seemed quieter and less crowded than she had expected it to be. Most of the wizards arriving seemed to be Apparating in. Only rarely did she see anyone tumbling out of the the fireplaces along the wall to her left.

Her jaw was set as she stared about the room. It was calm, almost peaceful. Her stomach clenched as a young witch with wavy hair bobbed past her, humming a cheerful tune. She forced herself to try and ignore her face. She didn't want to risk meeting her again and saying something horrible to her. It wasn't her fault. She didn't realize just how horrible the day was.

Ginny edged forward, trying to avoid the sparse stream of people, though she knew it wouldn't have mattered. A short break appeared in the stream, and as it neared, she quietly stepped into it. The wizard at the desk didn't even look up as she stepped through the gate.

Beyond the gate, the hall continued. However, instead of fireplaces, the walls now contained two rows of lifts with golden doors. Here, there were fewer wizards. All of them were either waiting for one of the many lifts, or walking briskly toward one.

No one was standing about. No one was chatting or waiting for a friend or colleague. It felt normal and businesslike. One of the elderly wizards near her rolled up the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and looked up at the clock between two of the lifts.

Ginny's eyes followed his, and she noted the time. It had already started. Of course, it had truly started long ago, but it wouldn't be long before everyone else would realize what she already knew.

"Where are all the lifts?" one witch questioned as she looked about her. A small crowd was growing in the hall, and people were starting to look about impatiently.

Ginny was also beginning to feel impatient. Now that she was here, she was unsure of just what she thought she was going to do. She cursed her earlier decision. It would have been better if she had chosen to appear later. She could have spared herself a few moments of standing here and watching all of these wizards going about their day. She looked back at the elderly wizard nearby. He reached down and held the hand of a small girl who could not be more than six years old. Smiling, they turned back to the lift and waited for it to open. Ginny felt her stomach tighten, and she looked anxiously between the clock and the door to the lift they were waiting for. Her eyes locked on the perfectly polished gold of the lift doors, and her mind pleaded with them.

_Please. Just open._

She clenched her jaw and forced her eyes closed. There would be plenty of time to see later. She just couldn't stand waiting anymore. She didn't want to see the old man and his grand-daughter. She didn't want to see the wavy-haired witch or the young wizard with the stack of books. She didn't want to wait. She just wanted it to happen.

_Ding!_

Ginny jumped and let out a short shriek at the sound, but no one turned to look at her. She felt a wave of relief as the door in front of the old wizard and the girl opened. They happily stepped into the lift, followed by three middle aged witches, and waited for the doors to close. Ginny swallowed and took a deep breath.

When she looked up again, she felt a chill run down her spine. Aurors were coming. A pair of them were slipping between the wizards walking through the gate right now. As they ran to the lifts, one of the wizards called out to them.

"It's about time!" he almost shouted. "See here! They're a disgrace, these lifts. I've been here for two minutes and still haven't found an open lift. It's not like it's a busy day. I expect better—"

Just as he was talking, a lift open next to him. Before he could even turn and step into it, the Aurors had dashed across the hall and slipped in. When other wizards moved toward the lift, the Aurors pulled their wands on them.

"Terribly sorry. This is Auror business."

The wizard stared dumbfounded as the doors closed. "That's nice! I suppose that's the Ministry's idea of courtesy? They hijack your lift but say they're sorry. Why I remember back when I was a child, that this place—"

The wizard halted his complaint when another _ding_ announced the arrival of a third lift. He huffed and stiffly walked over to the doors. The first occupant was stepping out of the lift before the doors had even finished opening. He gave the annoyed wizard a rough shove, and the spindly man tumbled to the polished wood floor.

"That's quite enough!" he shouted from the floor. "I demand to know— Hold on! You come back here!"

The wizard who'd pushed him down had already turned his back and was walking briskly toward the gate not far from Ginny. Behind him were two more wizards, dressed identically. All three had rather plain, dark grey cloaks with deep hoods that obscured their faces.

The pair of wizards pressed their way through the people waiting for the lift they had just exited. Ginny's eyes followed them as them as they walked with even, deliberate strides toward her. When the first wizard passed through the gate, the second two slowly drew their wands from their sleeves.

"Would you mind putting that away?" a nearby witch asked in a quiet voice. Another small girl was standing in front of her and staring at the two wizards with obvious fear.

"I would," one of them responded in a deep voice, "and if you find that threatening, I'd recommend you find somewhere else to be."

The witch's eyes stared back in shock. She looked around the hall quickly. Behind her, another lift opened and another grey-cloaked wizard walked quickly into the room, pausing only to look at two who had taken positions on either side of the gate. The witch pulled her daughter close to her, and quickly ushered her through the gate. Ginny heard a faint _crack_ a moment later, and they were gone.

The fourth wizard stood in the center of the hall and drew his wand like the others. Slowly, the crowd of wizards around him began to notice the strange new occupants of the hall, and many of them had begun making their way back through the gate. The rest just shrugged and shook their heads at them. The wavy-haired witch Ginny had seen earlier was still standing in front of one of the lifts with her hair bouncing playfully as she hummed some sickeningly sweet tune.

A low rumble suddenly shook the floor. It wasn't so much that anyone would have noticed if they'd been walking, but the quiet crowd standing by the lifts reacted almost immediately. The cheerful witch stopped humming and joined everyone else in looking around the hall in confusion. Barely heard through their murmured questions was a deep voice behind Ginny.

"_Stupefy!_"

Ginny turned to find the guard wizard slumped over his desk. The first cloaked wizard was turning and walking away from her, toward the large fountain. A second sound shook the room, this one louder and sharper, but Ginny kept her eye on the first wizard. He was watching the fireplaces now, and she saw immediately why.

Only seconds after the second rumble ended, one of the fires flared as a wizard rolled out of it. Before he could even stand, the cloaked wizard had stunned him. A witch rolled out a moment later and she too was stunned. She couldn't be sure, but they both appeared to be Aurors.

A pair of lifts announced their arrival behind her. She peeled her eyes away from the stunned Aurors to watch as the crowd behind her stepped away from the lifts. Ginny walked quickly back toward them and found the newly arrived lifts to be completely empty. It was coming.

A second pair of lifts chimed and Ginny felt her heart skip as a single wizard emerged from each lift. They were not like the others. Both of them were dressed in long, black cloaks with hoods and masks. Though she was unsure of the wizards in the grey cloaks, these two she recognized immediately. They were Death Eaters and their wands were drawn the moment they stepped off the lifts.

She wasn't the only one who had recognized them. Their first steps onto the gleaming wooden floors were drowned completely by shouts and screams from the wizards still in the hall. Ginny felt the world slow as the first hexes burst forth from the Death Eaters' wands.

She instinctively ducked and reached for her wand, though the hexes weren't aimed anywhere near her. Both of them had been aimed at the grey cloaked wizard in the center of the hall. Ginny slowly straightened and stared at the scene before her. The Death Eaters were fighting the other wizards.

She watched in awe as the pair of cloaked wizards who had been standing at the gate aimed their wands at the pair of Death Eaters opposite them. An instant later, one of the Death Eaters was falling limply to the floor while the other was dodging behind a group of panicking wizards.

Ginny pressed herself against a wall and watched the battle. Another lift opened, only to dump another pair of Death Eaters into the hallway. One of them fired a jet of purple sparks, throwing one of the other wizards against the wall. He fell to the ground and didn't move.

A pair of Aurors leaped through the gate and into the hall, immediately firing off more hexes. Most of the occupants of the hall were running for whatever safety they thought they could find. The best the hall had to offer were the darkened corners, and the helpless witches and wizards huddled there behind the bravest of their companions. The few witches and wizards who chose to draw their wands and fight found themselves stunned for their own safety by the Aurors and grey-cloaked wizards.

Another lift arrived, but instead of more Aurors, it was carrying only a single passenger. Ginny ventured out further into the room to try and get a better look at the newcomer. At first glance, it was impossible to tell if the person underneath the long black cloak was a witch or wizard. As soon as they leaped from the lift, it became more obvious. _A wizard— he moves like a wizard_, Ginny's mind told her.

Her first thought was that it was another Death Eater, but there was no mask, only an inky darkness, and instead of attacking the Aurors or anyone else, he moved quickly along the wall, dodging between groups of witches and wizards. Ginny stared at him as she strode across the hall. She wanted to see his face. She needed to know who it was. As she neared him, another pair of lifts chimed out.

She turned to look and found six Aurors striding into the hall. Like the black cloaked wizard, they ignored the battle which was now centered around the gate at the end of the hall. They were all aiming at the black-cloaked wizard across from them. He seemed to realize this immediately and ducked into one of the lifts, dodging a flurry of hexes. When he emerged, his wand was out and he was shouting something.

The world slowed again, and Ginny watched as a ring of bluish light exploded from his wand. As it reached the Aurors across the room, it tossed them against the wall as if they weighed nothing. As the arc of light stretched down the hall, wizards and witches were knocked off their feet indiscriminately, until it reached the three Death Eaters who were firing hexes through the gate. They all dropped to the floor, only dazed by the weakened charm.

Ginny surveyed the hall of fallen wizards. _They're still alive_, she reminded herself, _They're just unconscious_. She looked about, watching as the world around her sped back up. Her heart was pounding now. She knew it wouldn't be long. He would be on his way already.

A moment after the bluish glow faded, two more Death Eaters leaped from a lift at the far end of the hall, and the three grey-cloaked wizards strode back through the gate at the opposite end. Ginny instinctively ran to the nearest wall in an attempt to avoid the resulting volley of curses and hexes. One of the Death Eaters fell, then one of the grey wizards. The black-cloaked wizard was still standing and moving quickly along the far wall toward the gate. He paused to take aim at the wizards standing at the gate and a second later they were tossed back through it and out of Ginny's sight. He ran forward again, heading directly for the gate.

Ginny ran to follow him, but stopped short as the ceiling near the gate exploded, showering everyone with rock bits and dropping a few stone blocks onto the floor. The wizard stopped to avoid a falling chunk of masonry and stunned one of the two remaining Death Eaters. The last raised his wand, but was stunned from behind before he could do anything. The black-cloaked wizard raised his wand for a moment, then lowered it and turned to walk toward the gate.

"_STOP!_" someone shouted from the opposite end of the hall. Ginny froze. She knew that voice. She'd been waiting for him, but now that he was here, she wasn't certain if she could make herself look at him. With a deep breath she turned and stared down the length of the hall. Striding toward her and the dark-cloaked wizard was a sturdily built wizard with a brown traveling cloak and a head of bright red hair.

"No, Charlie—" she said aloud, though he couldn't hear her. Why had he chosen this day to be at the Ministry? Why hadn't he told anyone? He was walking briskly toward the lone wizard who, like Ginny, had obeyed Charlie's command and was still standing just inside the gate. Without any warning, he turned and fired a single hex into the other hall,causing an explosion to echo through both rooms. Ginny looked out into the larger hall and found two of the incoming fireplaces filled with rubble.

Charlie came to an abrupt stop about thirty or so feet from the wizard, and raised his wand threateningly. "Don't walk through that gate! I _will_ stop you. I can't let you take it." The other wizard turned to look at him (at least, Ginny guessed he did, his face was still completely darkened). Slowly the wizard raised his wand and aimed it at Charlie.

Ginny felt her heart pounding in her chest. Was this it? Why did Charlie have to do it by himself? Why didn't he wait for more Aurors? She already knew the answer to that question. He probably had waited for Aurors, but they were lying unconscious or otherwise incapacitated somewhere in the room behind him. Now Charlie was the only one left, and the wizard was only feet from crossing into the next hall where he'd be able to Apparate away.

"You'll have to kill me if you want it," Charlie shouted. "You know I can't let you leave with it." The cloaked wizard tensed his wand arm as if he were about to hex Charlie and Ginny's breath hitched. The hex never came, and a moment later, the wizard seemed to relax a little, though he kept his wand trained on Charlie.

"Drop it on the floor and walk away," Charlie said in a calming tone. "All I care about is the wand." The wizard made no move to either run or do as Charlie said. "You're running out of time. More of them are coming."

The wizard slowly reached into his cloak and pulled out a second wand. Equally slowly he began stepping backwards as he lowered it to the floor.

"I SAID _STOP!_" Charlie shouted as a flash of light shot from his wand and snapped a bar in the gate. The wizard froze again and slowly stood and pocketed the second wand.

"They'll never stop hunting you," Charlie warned. "Whatever you plan on doing with it, they won't let you. Just walk away." Ginny watched as the two of them stared at each other, seemingly waiting for their opponent to make the first move.

_Ding!_

Another lift opened behind them, and two Death Eaters jumped out into the Hall. Charlie whirled about and deflected a curse from one of them. More lifts were opening, releasing more Aurors and Death Eaters into the hall. However, instead of turning on each other, both groups seemed to care only about the wizard by the gate. An Auror shouted a quick command and all of them ran toward him. Charlie and Ginny both turned to see what had caused their reaction and found the dark-cloaked wizard pointing his wand directly above him. There was a flash of light and a loud explosion as the ceiling over him ripped apart. Even as the first blocks fell, the wizard jumped back through the gate.

Huge chunks of stone rained down from the ceiling. Charlie jabbed his wand at the falling rock and many of them vanished. He took the opportunity to dash toward the gate.

Ginny stood where she was. She had known this would happen. She hadn't imagined it would be quite like this, but now that she was here, she recognized it. As Charlie reached the gate, the sound of stone crushing stone heralded a second avalanche of rubble from the ceiling.

He didn't even have a chance to protect himself. Ginny watched helplessly as a dozen or more blocks of dusty stone cascaded down on him. There was no screaming, no cries for help, and no sign of any movement from the resulting pile of debris. She'd known how it would end from the moment she arrived, and yet the reality of it shook her.

As the Aurors scrambled over the stone covering him, Ginny caught a glimpse of the wizard standing and watching the results of his well placed curse. The moment the Aurors stepped through the gate, however, he was gone. He'd Apparated away, leaving the Aurors with nothing to follow.

Ginny turned back to the hall with the lifts, and found more Aurors running toward the gate. Without a word, they headed straight for the fireplaces, leaping into the flames one by one.

More lifts arrived, all of them carrying pairs of Aurors. The first group of Aurors had ignored the pack of Death Eaters in the Hall, but this second group did not. All of them except one were on their feet and running for the gate. The Aurors tried to stop them, but it was too difficult to distinguish Death Eater from innocent wizard in the dusty air. As the Death Eaters reached the gate, they each vanished with a _pop_, leaving the hall in eerie silence.

Witches and wizards were huddled in small groups around the room. Now that the dust was starting to clear, Ginny was able to see just how much damage had occurred. A huge section of the ceiling near the gate was missing, leaving a large empty hollow. As she walked closer, other wizards were running forward and pulling their wands.

"No, no! There's someone under all that!" one witch shouted as an Auror disarmed her. Another wizard had already started vanishing the stone blocks, but he could only do one at a time and it was slow going. The Aurors quickly joined in, and a few seconds later one of the called out:

"Someone is here!"

An Auror was pointing to one of the far edges of the pile. Ginny reluctantly walked over. Her stomach turned and she had to look away. Buried under a pair of the smaller blocks was a witch with blonde, wavy hair. Ginny stepped away and gasped, choking on her own guilt.

"There's another Death Eater here. He's dead."

Ginny forced herself to sit down. The Aurors were working through the rest of the rock now. She knew what they would find. She no longer wanted to see it. She knew enough. She knew too much. Was all this worth some wand? He had apparently thought keeping it safe was worth his life. Was it worth killing him just to get it?

Ginny sat against a wall as more wizards poured into the hall. She remembered seeing the wizard watching as Charlie was buried in rubble. He'd waited to see him die, as if he were gloating over the fact that he'd done just what Charlie said he'd have to. He hadn't needed to kill him. He could have stunned Charlie when he'd been distracted, or he could have simply jumped through the gate and Disapparated.

"Quick! I need help!" someone shouted from near the gate. Ginny looked away.

"It's too late," another wizard replied gravely. "Someone needs to go find Arthur Weasley."

As the tears streamed down her face, Ginny felt the ground shudder underneath her. Around her, the walls and ceiling were flickering. With the sound of splintering wood, the world around her was shredded and torn away, leaving a momentary blackness before she returned to the reality which still didn't include Charlie Weasley.

Ginny sat uncomfortably in her chair, staring at the glowing sphere in front of her. Hermione Granger was standing by a large desk not far away and very obviously avoiding looking at her. She looked doubly uncomfortable for reasons Ginny did not really understand. As she waited for Ginny to speak, she shifted a piece of parchment from her desk to a nearby table.

"Er... Are you... finished?" Hermione asked finally as she pointed toward the Spectrecorder.

Ginny said nothing, but nodded solemnly. Hermione walked forward and gently lifted the glowing Spectrecorder from the ring stand it had been sitting in. She carefully lowered it into a simple wooden box, closed the lid, and fastened the shining golden latch. On the side of the box was a simple label:

Security Gate, June 28

"I didn't know they had those," Ginny said as she watched Hermione open the wardrobe with her wand.

"Neither did I," Hermione replied. She pulled out a small black cloth bag, and carefully slipped the box inside it. Her motions were smooth and practiced, but there was a noticeable urgency to them. "After the break in three years ago, they decided they needed some way to keep an eye on what was happening. For a while they had guards under Invisibility Cloaks, but these are more reliable and don't ask for breaks to have a bit of tea."

"There was one of these by the gate?"

"Yes," Hermione replied quickly as she tied a gold cord around the top of the bag and tied it tight. "On the guard's desk."

"I didn't see it there when—"

"No, well you wouldn't, would you?" Hermione interrupted quickly. She was untying the knot and re-wrapping the cord. "The whole idea is that no one knows they are there. If everyone could see them, someone would have destroyed this, or at least taken it with them. We have to place invisibility charms on them every so often. Even being invisible, it was nearly destroyed."

Hermione finally finished with the cord and yanked the bag off the table. She strode toward the door. "I'll be back shortly. I'm terribly sorry, but if anyone finds out that— Well, I'll deal with that when it happens. Just stay here and, er... try to make it look like you just got here." Without another word, Hermione slipped through the door and closed it behind her.

Ginny looked around the room, trying to find anything that could help her keep her mind off what she'd just seen. It wasn't as easy as she would have hoped. The room was as neat and tidy as the last time she'd visited, and Hermione would have made sure to remove anything remotely interesting from view.

Of everything in the room, the desk was the only thing which did not look like it had been recently cleaned by a house-elf. Several small stacks of parchment were laid out in random places, and there was a small collection of quills and ink wells standing in a straight row.

In the corner next to the desk sat a large bookcase filled beyond capacity. It seemed to be filled with the books that Hermione used only occasionally. The most popular books seemed to have taken up permanent residence on the corner of her desk, while the rarely used books were relegated to the space under a small table in the corner. The only less accessible place in the whole room was a small hollow between her desk and a large oak wardrobe. It was appropriately the home of the things Hermione was least likely to ever use: a broom and a set of brightly colored books.

Ginny had seen the broom before. It was only a year old and it had never actually seen the sunlight. It had arrived at the office wrapped in thick brown parchment, and had remained that way for at least four months. She hadn't unwrapped it until the afternoon she had shown her office to Ron. Some time later, he bought her a trio of books about brooms and flying which had taken up residence in the very same hollow where the broom now stood. One of them, _Fanciful Flying for Frightening Situations_, Hermione had handled as if it might actually attack her.

The books had been sitting in the back of the hollow the last time Ginny had visited right after her N.E.W.T.s. They were now standing neatly with their spines showing to any visitors. That meant that Ron had come by recently. Hermione would have tried to make it appear as if she used them often in hopes of keeping him in good spirits. Even after three weeks, he was still prone to slipping into gloomy moods which could quickly turn to frustrated anger. In truth, Ginny was no better.

The door swung open unexpectedly, and without thinking, Ginny reached for her wand. Hermione darted into the room and quickly shut the door behind her. She walked over to her desk and collapsed into her chair with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said in a low voice. "When I asked I— I didn't think you would say yes if it was going to be a problem."

"There wasn't a problem with you watching it. There'd be a problem with anyone finding out that I let you," Hermione said with a faint smile. "As long as you didn't plan on actually telling anyone else about it,there shouldn't be any problem at all."

"I won't. I promise."

Hermione sat down across from Ginny and looked into her eyes. "Did it help? Did it answer any of your questions or show you what you were looking for?"

"I don't think I was looking for anything," Ginny answered softly. "I just needed to see it— to see how it happened. I never believed Scrimgeour. I knew Charlie wouldn't just stand by during a Death Eater attack, but I couldn't imagine he would— What was it? A wand? Would he have taken it for himself?"

"It was a wand, but I'm certain Charlie wasn't trying to steal it," Hermione answered promptly. "It wasn't just any wand. It was Voldemort's wand." This caught Ginny's attention. The Ministry had said they had not recovered anything from Voldemort's final fight.

Hermione nodded as if she knew what Ginny was thinking. "I know, I wish I could have told you and Ron earlier. That's what I've been working on for months," Hermione said as she waved her hand at her desk. "When H— When Voldemort's wand was forced to regurgitate its spells after the Triwizard Tournament, it was damaged. When the Aurors handed it over to the Unspeakables, they found that with a little work, we could get it to reveal most of the spells it had cast since then.

Hermione walked to her desk and pulled a stack of parchment from a drawer. "I've been trying to pull them out one by one and record them. We've already been able to solve quite a few mysteries about things that happened back then. Using that, the Aurors have had a little easier time tracking down the last of the Death Eaters. It'll be harder now, but I think we got most of the useful stuff already."

"Well, now they've got someone new to hunt," Ginny said gloomily. "I'll feel better when I know that he's living out the rest of his loathsome existence in Azkaban."

"Will that really make you feel better?"

"It'll be a good start," Ginny replied half-heartedly.

"I'm worried about you," Hermione said as she crouched down in front of Ginny. "You're still planning on becoming an Auror?"

Ginny nodded silently. It had been her plan for some time. Recently she'd begun to question her own motives, but even that hadn't diminished her desire.

"You know that you don't have to start Auror training right away, don't you?" Hermione asked. "No one will think less of you. It's only been a year— and now this. No one really expects you to start right now. Wait a year. Come live with me at Diagon Alley. Fred and George will be close by. You can even work in their shop if you like." Hermione was almost pleading with her. "If not that, wait a few months or even just an extra week or two. There's nothing they'll teach you in three months that you won't pick up immediately."

Ginny stared back at her suspiciously. "Why do you want me to wait? What are you afraid of?"

"I don't want you to join the Aurors out of some need for revenge," Hermione said seriously.

"Revenge?" Ginny asked, more like it was an option she hadn't considered than a reason she would never use. "What would I want revenge for?"

"You know very well what I'm talking about."

Ginny's eyes flashed with a spark of anger. "I don't think that I do. Why don't you tell me?"

Hermione stepped back, returning a defiant look. "There's nothing you can do that will bring him back. You just have to accept that now. Don't recklessly join the Aurors because of everything that's happened."

"I can make my own decisions, Hermione," Ginny replied with a scowl. I know what I'm doing, and I'm not doing it to seek revenge on whoever killed Charlie."

Hermione's eyebrows raised and she stared at Ginny again. "You know that's not what I meant."

Ginny said nothing, but shook her head as if she were trying to remove some thought from her own mind. "I— I think I should be going. I never meant to get you in trouble. I... I'm sure you have things you have to do." She stood up and walked to the door.

"I was serious, you know," Hermione said as she followed Ginny out the door. "You can come live with me if you like. I'd enjoy the company, even if you were gone half the time during Auror training."

"I know," Ginny replied. "I'll think about it."

"Alright then," Hermione said with a nod. Together they walked the short distance from Hermione's office to the large circular room of doors. After it spun itself around quite enough times to confuse Ginny, it stopped. Without any hesitation, Hermione stepped forward, opened a door and walked through it. Ginny followed and tried not to act surprised that Hermione had picked the correct door without any effort.

"How do you do that?" Ginny asked as she stopped just on the other side of the door.

"They're charmed so that only Department of Mystery employees can read the labels on the doors," Hermione answered with a slight smile. She closed the door behind her, but gave Ginny a strange look when she didn't continue walking. "I was going to walk you to the Entrance Hall," she offered.

Ginny held up her hand. "No, you can go back. I can find my way out from here."

Hermione looked concerned again. "You— You're sure? It really isn't—"

"I'll be fine, Hermione," Ginny interrupted. Hermione frowned, but nodded and quietly walked back through the door, leaving Ginny alone in the short hallway between the black door and the lifts.

A strange sensation hit her stomach. This was where it must have started. The thief couldn't have been discovered before he reached this place, she realized. It would be impossible to fight through the labyrinth of rooms in the Department of Mysteries.

She thought back to everything she'd seen in the Spectrecorder. There had seemed to be quite a few people chasing him. How could he have avoided all of them? One answer stuck out in his head: maybe he wasn't. Someone had held all of the lifts while the thief was stealing the wand, and the first wizards to arrive didn't look like Death Eaters or Aurors.

Ginny pressed a button for a lift, and one clattered into place and opened a moment later. As she rode the lift back to the entrance, she tried to work out how it must have happened.

The grey-wizards were the first to arrive. They must have been the ones holding the lifts. They had to know the thief was there, and yet, they left before he got on a lift. The fight started only after they arrived. Her lift gave a shudder and stopped. The gates pulled apart noisily and she stepped out into the long hall.

The Death Eaters had been next. They must have escaped the fight and ran here to try and stop the thief. The grey-cloaked wizards were waiting for them. It suddenly fit. They had been helping the thief. They held the lifts to make sure he wouldn't be stuck in the Department of Mysteries. They stunned the Aurors who showed up, and stunned the guard to keep him from calling more. They were keeping the exit clear for the thief.

Ginny looked around the hall, replaying the events in her head. He'd never really attacked them, had he? He'd just pushed them out into the hall. He must have been panicked. It hadn't gone as planned. She remembered how the black-cloaked wizard had tried to sneak through the hall. It was going wrong. Something happened to change his plans. Everything seemed alright until the Aurors arrived.

Something had gone wrong. Charlie had shown up.

Ginny turned to stare at the lift Charlie had walked from. The thief must not have expected Charlie to be here. Ginny still didn't know why he'd been there, but if he knew what was happening, he would have brought Aurors.

She slowly walked toward the gate. It had been replaced, and the ceiling completely repaired. There was no trace of what had happened here. Charlie had only been doing what he knew to be right. He'd been killed for it, needlessly and mercilessly, and his murderer had stood and watched.

Ginny paused and looked about her again, ignoring the looks she was getting from the passing witches and wizards. The Death Eaters and the Aurors were trying to stop the thief. They had even ignored each other in their attempts to stop him. How had Charlie gotten pulled into this? How had he gotten involved with a wizard so hated that the Aurors no longer cared about anything but stopping him.

Another thought squeezed its way into her mind. Charlie had died here. The Aurors had watched as he and the wavy-haired witch were crushed, yet they had ran right past it. No one even thought to help him until it was too late. More thoughts came into her mind. Thoughts she'd been thinking but not really acknowledging until now.

The Aurors had been acting a bit off. They seemed overly aggressive, almost reckless. They hadn't really cared about anyone else in the hall. They'd just been trying to stop the thief at all costs. Perhaps some part of her mind had already noticed that. Was that what the Aurors were really like? Was that how they had captured so many Death Eaters?

She needed time to think. Her application for Auror Training was due soon. She'd have to decide by then. Everything was set, except her mind.


	2. An Uncomfortable Position

Chapter 2

An Uncomfortable Position

Ginny awoke a little more than one week later to an eerily quiet Burrow. Ron was away with the Cannons, Bill and Fleur had their own house now. Fred and George were living in the flat above their shop at Diagon Alley. Percy never visited unless required by law. Arthur had taken to leaving early for the Ministry, and without a herd of children to take care of, Molly had taken up an almost endless number of hobbies. Ginny couldn't quite remember which one it was that had drawn her from the Burrow that morning, but it hadn't been urgent enough to keep her from leaving enough food for Ginny to have a good sized breakfast.

She tried to ignore the world and focus on the dry toast in front of her. She'd known for some time that she wouldn't be enjoying this day, and the knowledge that she was correct was hardly worth being happy about. Now that it had finally arrived, she found herself wondering if she had the courage to actually go through with it. There were so many people who had offered to help her.

Ginny forced some juice down her throat as she looked over the letter again. It had arrived last night while she at a quiet dinner with her parents.

_Miss Weasley, _

_Due to unexpected scheduling concerns, we will need to move your previously scheduled appointment from tomorrow afternoon to 9 o'clock tomorrow morning. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. Please return a message with our owl to confirm the suitability of this change. _

_Regards,_

_Carmilla Candlewright _

It was an extra annoyance she would have rather avoided, though it was only a small matter compared to the rest of the things she was trying not to remember. She had wanted to pick up a new set of robes for the appointment, but that would no longer be possible.

Her mother and father had played down the importance, and, for the most part, they were correct. The Aurors wouldn't really care if she arrived in robes that were a year old. Unfortunately that wasn't the thing that concerned Ginny.

Over the last week, her desire to join the Aurors had waned more than she could have guessed. She simply couldn't get the images out of her head. Their cold, mindless pursuit of the thief unnerved her. They had ignored everything else, even Death Eaters. Could she ever do that? Could she have ignored the innocent witch trapped under the rubble? Could she have ignored all the horrible things she knew the Death Eaters had done, and still would do?

The chilling answer had haunted her dreams for the last few days. Each night, she'd watch as the ceiling crumbled over some innocent wizard and the dark-cloaked thief ran away laughing. When the message came last night, calling her to the appointment early, she knew she would show up. There really wasn't any other option.

Neither of her parents knew what the letter had said. She'd told them it was just a note from Hermione about some plans they made. Knowing what the next day was, they didn't ask any more questions. No one had asked her what she'd be doing today. It wasn't really something she had been expecting, but it did make things somewhat simpler.

Ginny glanced at the clock again. She still had an hour. Could Madam Malkin's finish a set of robes in a half hour? Perhaps, but even if it was possible, there was no way she'd have enough time to show up at the Ministry of Magic in time for her appointment.

She finished off another piece of toast and paced about the kitchen for a while. She returned to her small bedroom and spent a few minutes with her wand, fixing up her robes as best she could. With all of that complete, she checked a clock again, only to find that she still had a half hour to wait.

Ginny shrugged, and shook her head. She'd best go now while she still had the nerve to do it. It would be harder to back out once she was sitting in the Ministry. She pocketed her wand and made her way down to the kitchen. After a quick drink to cure her dry throat, she opened the door and left the Burrow.

The weather was loathsome. The sun was already shining brightly, and the only clouds in the sky were small puffs of white hanging lazily on the horizon. A gentle breeze carried the sweet smell of freshly opened flowers from her mother's garden. With an annoyed huff, she started off toward the hill that marked the edge of the Anti-Apparation charm which remained around their home. As she walked, a pair of songbirds showed their poor taste by starting to sing.

"_Silencio_."

The singing stopped immediately and the bird took flight, soundlessly retreating. It did little to improve Ginny's mood, but that didn't really trouble her. It was not a day to be in a good mood. She'd wanted rain or fog, or even just a strong wind. Instead, she got this. She didn't want to be happy today. She wanted to get it over with. She had things she needed to do, and she'd never be able to do them if she had to spend every day at the Burrow with her mother.

She reached the top of the hill and turned around to look back at the Burrow. She could barely make out the shape of her mum standing in front of the door, no doubt watching her as she left. She'd probably hoped to talk to Ginny before she left. Ginny sighed to herself. It was probably better that she didn't. The idea of a an awkward conversation with her mum didn't sound like it would make this any easier.

In the distance, Molly Weasley raised an arm to wave goodbye. Ginny instinctively waved back. A moment later, she closed her eyes, concentrating on a place that she remembered all too well.

With a _pop_ she Apparated into the long Entrance Hall in the Ministry of Magic. It was disturbingly similar to the dreams she'd been having the last few nights. Presently, there were many more wizards Apparating into the hall. Every so often, a wizard or two would tumble out of the fireplaces to her right. Nearly all of them were slowly making their way toward the far end of the hall where Ginny could just make out the large golden security gate. She joined them, walking slightly slower than the rest, unable to take her eyes off the gate.

"Ginny?" a voice called out from her left. Ginny turned and found Hermione staring at her and closing a large, ancient-looking book. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the low wall which ringed the fountain in the center of the hall.

"You're here a bit early, aren't you?" she asked with obvious surprise.

"Yeah, I guess," Ginny replied weakly. "I... er, I didn't feel like sitting around the Burrow so..."

"Right," Hermione said with a sympathetic nod. "Well, you've got loads of time. I've been shut out of my office, so we could pop off to Diagon Alley for a bit if you like. I'm sure it would be more interesting than this book."

"Why did they kick you out?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Hermione said quickly. "Just someone being overly paranoid. I... er... I hadn't planned on being in today, but when I heard about your appointment, I decided I should be here when they come to talk with me."

"Why were you going to be out?" Ginny asked, though she already knew the answer.

Hermione frowned, a little embarrassment showing through her suddenly gloomy expression. "Ron and I were... we were going to meet to remember or celebrate... well, you know. I guess this is just as good. At least this gets something done." Hermione smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Ginny's shoulder. "I'm really proud of you, Ginny."

Ginny had to look away. "I know," she mumbled in response. "I hope you still are by tonight."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said with a bigger smile. "No one's better qualified than you. Now, how about some tea?" Hermione started turning Ginny away from the queue of people making their way through the gate. "Since no one expected me to be in, they put some heavy charms on my office. It will take an hour for them to remove them all. Fred and George told me about a great little shop that just opened across the street from their shop."

Ginny looked back toward the gate nervously. "I don't know... I think I would really rather just go up and wait."

"You want to wait? But your appointment isn't until this noon?"

"Maybe they'll be able to do it earlier?"

"I doubt it. They must have at least twelve people waiting already."

"Still, I think I'd rather just wait. I don't really feel like tea right now."

A frown returned to Hermione's face. "Alright. At least let me walk you there." Reluctantly, Ginny agreed. They walked to the security desk where Ginny checked in with the wizard there. It wasn't the same wizard she'd seen in the Spectrecorder, but he looked equally bored.

When he was finished cataloging her wand, he waved them off toward the gate. Ginny paused for just a moment as she walked through. Standing in the center of the smaller hall was an Auror staring directly at her. As Ginny continued forward and followed Hermione toward one of the lifts, the Auror strode toward them.

"They aren't done with your office yet, Miss Granger," he said as he stopped in front of them.

"So I assumed," Hermione replied with only a touch of annoyance.

"Even if it were, I don't think they'd let you take a guest down there with you," he continued. "Not today at least, and not her."

"I'm not her guest, and I'm not going to the Department of Mysteries," Ginny replied without trying to hide her annoyance as Hermione had.

"Oh yeah?" he returned with a laugh. "What business do you have here this early in the morning?"

"Does it matter?" Ginny shot back. "Why aren't you questioning everyone else about what they are here for? How about her?" Ginny said with a nod at a witch standing nearby. "Why haven't you asked her what her business here is?"

"She's applying for Auror Training," Hermione told him in a pacifying voice. "She's a bit stressed right now. I'm just following her up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Hold on... She's here for Auror Training?" the Auror asked suspiciously. "She's the Weasley girl, right? Arthur's daughter, I mean." After a nod from Hermione, he continued with an even more incredulous expression. "She's a bit early, is she?"

"We know," Hermione answered. Then she leaned closer to him, and spoke in a lower voice, "This isn't really the best day for this, you know?"

"Well, it's not going to get any better, is it?" he replied with a snort. "I mean, it's one thing to show up early to make a good impression. Makes it look like you're serious and dependable, you know? But showing up this early? It looks more like you just can't figure out how to tell time."

The golden doors in front of Ginny and Hermione clattered open. "Yes, thank you," Ginny said sweetly as she stepped into the lift. "I'll be sure to remember that next time." The Auror gave her a strange look, but said nothing else. Hermione entered next and joined Ginny in the back of the lift as a number of other wizards piled into the already cramped space.

Ginny waited patiently as they stopped at each level. Finally they reached level-two and they squeezed past a pair of tall wizards and into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Come on," Hermione encouraged her. "We can at least find someplace comfortable to sit and wait." Hermione turned and started marching off.

Ginny stood where she was. "You really don't have to. I'll be fine."

Hermione stopped and gave her a sympathetic smile. "It's really no bother. You heard him. They still won't let me down into my office."

"I—I guess I would just feel better if I just did this myself," Ginny said sheepishly. "I don't really want to talk about it —or anything else. I just want to get it over with and... Well, I think it's better if I do it alone."

Hermione gave her another smile and nodded. "Alright. I understand. I'm sure you'll be brilliant. I'll see you sometime later, then?"

Ginny nodded silently. Hermione walked back over to the bank of lifts and waited quietly for the next one to open. Not knowing what else to do, Ginny waved one last time, and walked off.

Once she'd rounded the first corner, she stopped and waited. Should could just barely hear the sounds of the lift grates opening and closing. She stood and waited, listening as two more lifts arrived, dropped off passengers and then rattled on to their next destination. Surely one of them must have taken Hermione.

Ginny slowly leaned out around the corner and looked for some sign that Hermione had truly left. It was impossible to tell without stepping around the corner, so after a deep breath she walked out into the small hall as if it were completely natural for her to do so.

To her relief, Hermione had already left. She allowed herself a quiet sigh before the next lift appeared. It was still on its way up to the first level, so Ginny was forced to nervously wait for the next one. With her luck, Hermione would come back for some strange reason and she'd never be able to explain what she was currently doing. Either that, or someone from the Auror Headquarters would walk by and ask her more questions. That wouldn't do either. It was bad enough that the Auror by the lifts had seen her. She looked at the clock on the wall. There was still plenty of time. She only wished she had an Invisibility Cloak so no one could see her.

Ginny jumped as another lift opened behind her. A pair of paper airplanes zoomed over her head and stopped just inside the lift. Ginny stepped in after them and relaxed a little. No one else joined her. Now she just had a few levels and she'd be done.

When the lift stopped at Level Three, she turned and tried to hide her face. There were two Aurors standing just outside the lift, apparently waiting for a lift to Level Two. On Level Four, an old witch carrying a niffler stepped into the lift, but completely ignored her. When the doors opened on the fifth level, Ginny quickly slipped out of the lift.

The fifth level did not look terribly unlike the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There were rows of cubicles flanked by large windowed offices. Directly in front of her was a pleasant-looking, middle-aged witch behind a spacious desk. A large gold plaque on the corner read:

Carmilla Candlewright

Department of International Magical Cooperation

"Good morning, Miss Weasley," she called out in a kindly voice. "I'm glad you were able to make it. I'm terribly sorry about the schedule change. It really was out of our hands."

Ginny had still expected to wait, but as the 9 o' clock came and passed, she was still left sitting patiently in one of the soft leather chairs near Mrs. Candlewright's desk. Echoing softly from a nearby corridor was the muffled sound of an argument occurring. Normally, she might have been annoyed with the wait, but as the sound of a light crash echoed into the small lobby, she realized that her situation could be worse.

Mrs. Candlewright smiled at Ginny and calmly stood. "I'm terribly sorry to keep you waiting, dear. I'll go and see what is keeping Mr. Harrington and Mrs. Reading."

The kindly woman walked off smoothly. To Ginny's dismay, she seemed to be heading in the direction of the argument. If either of the people she was supposed to meet were part of it, then perhaps there was little mystery to reason behind the open position. Ginny reminded herself that she didn't need to stay here forever. She just needed a job until she could work out what had happened with Charlie. If the Aurors had any part of that, she couldn't let herself get involved.

When she saw the listing of Ministry jobs in the _Daily Prophet_ last week, this one had caught her eye immediately. The scene from the Spectrecorder was fresh in her mind, and the Department of International Magical Cooperation seemed to be a suitable choice for someone looking to do a little looking into what had happened. With any luck, she'd get the chance to travel about, and it would be easy to slip off for short periods of time. She tried to ignore the quiet voice in the back of her head which reminded her of the other things she had intended to search for.

"I'm terribly sorry for the delay, Miss Weasley," Mrs. Candlewright apologized as she glided back to her desk. "I believe they are ready for you now."

Ginny nodded and stood up. She ran her hands through her hair nervously and then straighted her robes as much as possible. Craning her neck around the corner, she tried to figure out where she was supposed to go. There was a long corridor which eventually widened to include two rows of cubicles. At the far end was a large wooden door with a golden sign on it. Mrs. Candlewright was already scratching away at a large piece of parchment. Ginny cleared her throat to get her attention.

"Pardon me, but where do I go?"

"Oh dear, I quite forgot," the witch said with the hint of a laugh. "It's right down that corridor. The large office at the end." She pulled out her wand, and wiggled it in the air. With a burst of sparks, a small, plump bluish bird appeared and flew clumsily toward Ginny. "There you are. It will lead you there. Good luck."

Ginny looked at the bird curiously. It chirped and bobbed happily in front of her, slowly edging its way down the corridor. "Thank you," she said and then turned to follow her feathered guide. When she reached the door at the end of the corridor, the bird perched itself on the top of a large gold sign fixed to the door. With one last, cheerful chirp, the bird disappeared in a puff of sparks and feathers.

She reached for the door's polished, golden handle, but stopped as she heard voices coming from inside the room. They were muffled, but she could still hear a certain amount of tense discomfort in their tones.

"So?" a witch's voice asked. "I don't see what you're so uncertain about." Ginny had to guess it was Mrs. Reading.

"Don't you?" a wizard responded, almost certainly the Mr. Harrington whose name had been etched into the golden sign in front of her. "Come now. You're much more clever than that. You saw right through those French blokes and their complaint over that shipment of spellbooks. You're telling me that you read all that and you don't see anything odd?"

"Of course I do," the witch replied. "Fairly well known family. No past problems with Magical Law Enforcement. Enough N.E.W.T.s to do any number of things. I'd say it's terribly odd that she didn't stop by last month when we were looking for someone to fill Goldwain's position." The wizard mumbled something in response, but Ginny couldn't quite hear it.

"I thought she'd be here by now," the witch said in an almost curious voice. "Carmilla said she'd send her over."

Knowing how it would look if either of them opened the door to find her standing there, Ginny waited a second, then knocked lightly while the witch was still talking. The voices in the room died immediately, and a moment later, the door opened.

At the door was a tall witch with long black hair. She was younger than Ginny had expected. She seemed to be older than Tonks and yet younger than Lupin, and yet there was a shrewdness in her eye that reminded Ginny of Professor McGonagall.

"Ah, Miss Weasley," she said with a smile. "Please come in. We were expecting you. I'm terribly sorry about making you wait. Our morning has been quite interesting already."

The wizard standing behind her seemed quite a bit less cheery. He was an older wizard with short, brown hair streaked with grey. His nose and jaw were sharp and his eyes were dark and glaring at her with undisguised annoyance. Ginny tried to smile at him, but it was rather difficult. His eyes narrowed.

"Welcome to the Department of International Magical Cooperation," he said with a forced smile. "I am Ferdinand Harrington. This is Cordelia Reading. Before we decide whether we will be taking you on, there is a... procedure that needs to be followed. This office deals regularly with ministries from other countries. The position we are considering you for will require you to _occasionally_ interact with _junior_ members of foreign ministries. It is important that we trust you to act appropriately."

"Mrs. Reading will have a series of questions for you. While you answer them, I will be contacting the witches and wizards you submitted as references on your application. We are under some pressure to fill this position quickly. You have, of course, informed them that they are to expect a visitor. I do not have the time to try and track down half a dozen wizards spread across the globe."

"I have, sir," Ginny answered. It was true. She had told them to expect someone from the Ministry to visit them. She had not told them that it would be from the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

"Very well," he replied with a short sigh. "I leave you with Mrs. Reading. Good day."

"I'm sure he wishes you the best of luck, as well," Mrs. Reading said as Harrington began walking for the door.

"Yes, of course," he replied as he eyed Ginny warily. The door closed sharply behind him. Mrs. Reading shook her head and waved a hand at a nearby chair.

"Sit down, please," she said in a soft voice. "Harrington's job requires him to deal with many things and many people. This morning he has been unfairly forced to do both at the same time, and without any tea."

Ginny sat down and tried to find some position which would be comfortable enough to balance the amount of anxiety she was suddenly about to feel. This was supposed to be easier than joining the Aurors. Mrs. Reading was nice enough, but it seemed Mr, Harrington had disliked her from the moment he saw her. She hadn't enjoyed the thought of him questioning her, but the thought of him talking to her friends seemed even more upsetting.

The only good part of the situation was Mrs. Reading. She was good natured and immediately set to asking Ginny a series of questions. Few of them had simple answers, but none of them were terribly challenging as well. The constant questions were distracting her from the thought of Harrington speaking with Hermione.

After quite some time, Mrs. Reading became more relaxed and the questions became somewhat easier. The first questions were much more serious. What should she expect in the presence of a Veela? What should she do if someone asked her to comment on some Ministry policy? These later questions were much less formal. What hex would she use to discourage the attention of wizards who'd had too much Firewhiskey? What was her favorite sweet? When was the last Quidditch World Cup she'd attended.

The time slipped past her and she was surprised to see that it had been over an hour and a half since Mr. Harrington had left. Mrs. Reading took more and more time to think of questions to ask her. Eventually they had fallen to simply discussing Quidditch.

"So you actually got to play at Hogwarts?" Mrs. Reading asked.

"Yes, but not as much as some people did."

"What position?"

"Chaser mostly," Ginny answered lightly. "Though I did play Seeker a couple of times."

"Really? That's odd, isn't it?" the older witch asked. "I mean, you don't really see many players who do both, do you?"

"No, I only did it because our normal Seeker couldn't play."

Mrs. Reading frowned. "Couldn't play? They must have been good for you to keep them on the team if they kept missing matches."

"Well, yes... I—"

The door to the office opened suddenly and Mr. Harrington quickly stepped into the room and promptly pushed the door closed again. He walked to the table Ginny and Mrs. Reading were sitting at and gave them both a rather sour look.

"I don't want to hire her."

The smile disappeared from Ginny's face. The whole thing had been a waste of time. She pushed back her chair and stood. "Alright then. I'll be going," she said stiffly.

Mrs. Reading stood up with her and glared at Harrington. "Hold on," she told Ginny as she held out an arm to stop her from leaving. She turned back to the greying wizard. "You have a good reason, don't you? A reason the Minister will be satisfied with?"

"Not yet," Harrington said with distaste.

"Then give her a chance."

Harrington looked from Mrs. Reading to Ginny and back. With an disgruntled huff, he heaved a leather satchel onto the table. Without a word, he motioned for Ginny to sit back down. She did, though without any of the comfort she'd been in just moments ago. Mrs. Reading gave her an encouraging nod and sat back down as well.

Harrington opened the satchel, pulled out a thick folder and tossed it on the table in front of him. There was a golden tab affixed to one side of the folder which read "Weasley, Ginevra". On top of it, Harrington tossed a few pieces of parchment that Ginny recognized: the application she'd filled out. Finally, he removed a small object and placed it in the center of the table. It was a Sneakoscope.

"What is that for?" Mrs. Reading asked in an exasperated voice.

"I do not suffer liars in this office, Miss Weasley," Harrington said in response to his assistant's question. "It's one thing to misinform some foreign official. Such things are occasionally necessary. It is something altogether different to lie to me. I can't very well run this office if I am not being told the truth." He leaned over the table and looked directly at Ginny. "If you tell me even the smallest of untruths," he hissed, "I'll see that you never set foot in this office again."

Ginny focused on keeping her composure and not trying to show any reaction at all. What exactly did he dislike about her?

"Again, I've very sorry for all this, Miss Weasley," Mrs. Reading apologized. "As I said, Mr. Harrington's had a bad morning." She shot what looked to be a warning glance at her superior. "He's normally much more pleasant. Now can we just get on with this?"

"Yes, why don't we," Harrington said in a falsely happy voice. "Why don't we begin with your references. You do have quite a few. Enough even for an application for Auror Training." He paused to glance at Ginny before continuing. "Strangely enough, that was exactly what Miss—" he paused to page through the folder in front of him, "—Granger, yes— exactly what she thought I was there for." Ginny refused to react to the comment, but she noticed a strange look from Mrs. Reading.

"I had quite an odd conversation with her," Harrington continued. "It was odd enough that an applicant for a low level assistant position would have references in the Department of Mysteries, but Miss Granger seemed even more uncertain about this business than I am."

"How do you know her?" Mrs. Reading asked.

"She's my friend," Ginny answered.

A grunting laugh escaped Harrington's throat. "She's a bit more than that. She also spends quite a bit of time with your brother Ronald, who just happens to be the Keeper for the Chudley Cannons."

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?" Mrs. Reading commented. "We were looking for someone with some knowledge of Quidditch."

"Yes, how fortunate that we found her," Harrington replied in a low tone. "I also spoke with Minerva McGonagall. After a short introduction, she explained in very articulate detail just how talented and clever you were, how I would be completely wasting your potential, and how cruel it would be to use the recent hardships in your life as a reason to keep you from reaching that potential." Ginny stared back with a stony face, waiting for some accusation or insult.

After an uncomfortable silence, Harrington resumed. "She did also say that you had excellent marks, good with people, decent Quidditch player, nice family and so on. All of that sound correct?"

"Yes."

"I then spoke with one Remus Lupin. He was a former professor at Hogwarts. He taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. That's not really the class we're normally most interested in, by the way," Harrington commented. "Still, you must have made quite an impression at... twelve years of age. He knew quite a bit about you." Again, Ginny kept her mouth shut despite her desire to speak out against Mr. Harrington's tone.

"Besides being a werewolf," he said as his eyes twitched toward Mrs. Reading, "he's had an interesting collection of friends. Let's see. Albus Dumbledore. Mad-Eye Moody. Mundungus Fletcher. Arthur and Molly Weasley. That was less of a surprise than it should have been, and it doesn't even compare to Nymphadora Tonks. I hear he's spending quite a bit of time with her." He shook his head and stared at the parchment in front of him. "An Auror and a werewolf. Strange company, indeed."

"I don't see what any of this has to do with me," Ginny blurted out. She'd tried to stop herself, but the words just burst forth.

Harrington simply smiled. "That is _precisely_ what Mr. Lupin said. I did some quick checking and found that Mr. Lupin had some even more interesting friends when he was younger. It seems he was good friends with the notorious Sirius Black—"

"He was innocent!" Ginny nearly shouted.

"Of course he was," Harrington said with menacing kindness. "I'm certain Mr. Black was quite honorable and terribly well behaved."

Ginny sat back and forced herself to calm down. She could feel the anger rising in her stomach. What was the point of all of this? Why didn't he trust her? This was supposed to be an easy job, not an interrogation.

"Mr. Lupin was also friends with James and Lily Potter," Harrington continued. "Due in part to this, he was also said to be friendly with their son, Harry. Have you heard of him?"

Ginny scowled at the absurdity of the question. "Yes," she shot back, trying to say as little as possible.

"Seems he was almost inseparable from your brother and the very same Miss Granger you listed as a reference. You got to know him as well, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"You became rather close, I hear."

"Yes," she answered with a clenched jaw.

"How close, would you say?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed and she glared at Harrington. "What does it matter?"

"How close, Miss Weasley?" Harrington asked again, tapping his finger next to the Sneakoscope.

"Honestly, Ferdinand, is this really necessary?" Mrs. Reading asked.

Harrington ignored her and kept his eyes locked on Ginny. "Were you in a relationship?"

"It's none of your business," Ginny growled.

"It is now," Harrington replied smoothly. "You were, weren't you? Why were you trying to keep it a secret?"

Ginny flashed a threatening smile. "If I had been _trying_ to keep it a secret, you wouldn't have found out, would you?"

Harrington stared back at her coldly. "In this office, there is no difference between secrets and lies."

"It wasn't a secret," Ginny reiterated.

"Then why not be open about it? Why resist? If there is nothing—"

"That's enough, Ferdinand!" Mrs. Reading barked. "She's answered your question."

He frowned at her as if she'd betrayed him. "Fine. We will move on." His voice returned to a more civil tone, though something in his eyes told Ginny that nothing had changed.

"You have a large family, yes?" he asked. Ginny nodded. "Very good. You have a pair of brothers who run a shop at Diagon Alley. Were you aware that they were summoned to this office five weeks ago for attempting to skirt the restrictions on importing six different varieties of venom?"

"No," Ginny replied honestly. It did sound like something they would do, however.

Harrington gave her an uncertain look and watched the Sneakoscope carefully. When it remained silent, he frowned at it. "Very well. If you worked in this office, would you aid them in these attempts in any way."

Ginny felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "They don't need my help. If they haven't been back here for five weeks they've already figured out how to get them in."

Harrington frowned again. "Interesting," he said as he scratched something out on a nearby piece of parchment. "You also have a brother working in the Minister's Office, yet you've... neglected to mention him," he said with a smile.

Ginny frowned. "We don't talk much."

"I see," Harrington said with a nod. "A close family. Next there's Ronald, but we've already talked about him. I'm sure he wouldn't mind having a sister in this office. Then there's Bill, who married a Veela, I hear."

"She's only part Veela."

"Right. Part Veela. And where does he work?"

"Gringott's."

"Yes, yes," Harrington said seriously. "It must be handy to have someone in the family who works the goblins. They have been quite... active in politics of late."

"I guess he's never mentioned that," Ginny said flatly.

"Right. Christmas must be a quiet affair for you lot," he said as he shook his head. "His wife, the Veela—"

"—Part Veela—"

"Yes, the part Veela. She's French, quite rich, with Veela ancestry and she married him... for his looks?" he ventured.

Ginny scowled at him. "She married him because he's brave and a good wizard."

"Certainly. That's usually why these things happen," he replied sarcastically. And finally there was... Charlie, right? You called him Charlie?" Ginny nodded silently. "I'm terribly sorry for your loss. I was away at the time, but I was shocked to hear of it upon my return." For a moment Ginny thought she detected a trace of actual remorse. It disappeared a moment later, and the cold look returned to his eyes. "What exactly did he do?"

"He was a dragon handler in Romania."

Harrington sat back in his chair and looked over to Mrs. Reading. "Romania, you said? Did you enjoy your visits there?"

Ginny paused to look at the two of them. There was something odd about how he'd asked that question. Why did he think she'd been to Romania? She stared back at Harrington. "I never visited him. He... came home often enough— at least, it seemed often enough at the time..."

"Got along pretty well in Romania, did he? Did he ever bring anyone to Britain with him?"

"No..." she replied with a suspicious look.

"Did he ever talk about Romanian politics or odd dealings?"

"No—"

"Course not," Harrington replied as he poked the Sneakoscope. "It's amazing you even knew each other's names."

"He mostly talked about dragons," Ginny continued. "Is there something—"

"If there is, I'm sure it's not important," Harrington said, cutting her short.

"Did you know Charlie?" she asked hesitantly.

"Not personally, no," Harrington replied quickly. "I've simply heard his name before... before the unfortunate events of the last month. My memory isn't what it once was, and I was trying to remember where I've heard of him."

Before he'd even finished speaking, the Sneakoscope started whirring and glowing. Harrington's arm shot forward and snatched it from the table. In a single fluid motion it was back in his satchel and the satchel was tossed under the table.

Mrs. Reading cleared her throat. "I assume you're finished now."

"I am," Harrington said as if the idea left a bad taste in his mouth. "The only thing left is to set up the Auror investigation."

"Investigation?" Mrs. Reading exclaimed. "Since when have we ever—"

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked Ginny. "It's not like they'd find anything, would they?"

Ginny stared at the shrewd wizard. Something made her want to be cautious around him, and yet she got the feeling that he was the one at a disadvantage. "I thought you had to hire someone quickly?"

"Counting on that, were you?" he snapped.

"No," Ginny replied evenly. "Look, I'm just responding to the article I read in the _Daily Prophet_. If you want to investigate me, that's just fine."

"There won't be any investigation," Mrs. Reading announced.

"Quite right," Harrington barked. "There's no need, since she won't be working anywhere near this office."

"Oh?" Mrs. Reading replied, rounding on Harrington. "What better candidate can you find in—" she looked to the clock, "—twenty minutes? Certainly not that empty-headed niece of yours. She can barely handle herself in a room of British wizards. I'd never even let her within sight of the Bulgarians or the Swiss. Who knows what she'd agree to do!"

"Well at least she's not some power-hungry, manipulative liar!" he shouted back.

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"Oh, come now," Harrington laughed bitterly. "You remember her brother. Started in this office, working for Crouch. Next thing you know, he's getting close with Fudge, and now he's working for Scrimgeour. You don't think it's a bit strange that she shows up here, trying to get a job that is obviously beneath her talents and fitting every single requirement that we have?"

"No, I don't think it's odd that we've found someone who's talented and capable," Mrs. Reading responded. "I think it's terribly fortunate."

"Fortunate, indeed! And she shows up just in time!" Harrington shouted somewhat maniacally. "Twenty minutes to spare! We don't really have much of a choice, do we?"

"What does that matter? I'd hire her if we had a month to decide," Mrs. Reading replied. "I'd hire her if we'd already hired someone else. I say if she wants the job, it's hers. After what she's been through, I don't think I'd be all that eager to be an Auror, either."

"Course not. What would be the point?" Harrington said as he leaned back again. "She spent all that time getting close to Potter, but now she's got to find a different plan. She's certainly not going to find fame by spending three years in Auror training."

Mrs. Reading's eyebrows shot up. "You're delusional!"

"Am I?" Harrington asked as he picked up the folder and tossed it toward Mrs. Reading. "You saw her file! Links to the Minister, the goblins, French Veela, Quidditch, _Romania_. How much more do you want?"

"You're being paranoid," Mrs. Reading said in a calm voice. She shoved the folder back toward the center of the table. "She's not even eighteen years old. She's barely out of Hogwarts, and you think she's manipulating both of us?" She leaned forward and spoke slowly. "You're raving mad. She wants the job. If it's beneath her, then she'll be brilliant at it. It's not like we can't have her do more important things."

"Yes, I'm sure that's just what she wants."

"Oh, come off it!"

Harrington jabbed a sharp finger toward the younger witch. "Don't you forget who the head of this department is."

"Oh, I haven't," Mrs. Reading replied coolly. "An neither has the Minister. If you don't hire her, then you can expect to see me in the Minister's office explaining how I found her to be perfectly acceptable."

Harrington stood up, knocking his chair to floor. "Fine," he growled. "Take her, but if this turns out badly, I'll see that you never set foot in this office again."

A bored look crossed Mrs. Reading's face. "Yes, and if it works out splendidly you'll forget that I had anything to do with it."

There was a tense moment of silence during which Ginny wondered if either of them would turn and realize that she hadn't ever left the room. Not wanting to actually draw attention to this fact, she remained quiet like her two hosts. Finally, Mr. Harrington turned and extended a hand toward Ginny. She cautiously stood and reached out to shake it.

"Good day, Miss Weasley," he said quite formally. "If we decide to take you on, we'll send you an owl."

Ginny blinked and stared at his face. "But... didn't you just say—"

Harrington stared back stonily, and spoke as if it took all his restraint to keep from striking her.

"_We'll. Send. You. An owl._"

"Alright," Ginny replied quietly. "Thank you." She nodded to Mrs. Harrington who was shaking her head in frustration.

She closed the door behind her. She wanted to stop and wait to see if they would begin arguing again once she'd left, but she forced herself to walk away. It would probably be best if she didn't hear anything they were about to say. Instead, she walked back down the corridor which led to the large desk and eventually the lifts. She'd have to go back to the Burrow and wait to see just what was going on. She nodded to the receptionist as she walked past her desk and turned to walk toward the lifts.

"No use leaving, dear," a witch's voice called out from behind her. Ginny froze and spun around to see Mrs. Candlewright smiling at her. "I'm sure Mrs. Reading will be calling you back in a few minutes."

"But Mr. Harrington said I should leave," Ginny replied. In truth, she hadn't decided to leave because he'd told her to, but rather because she knew it would be an annoyance for him to ask her to return.

The smile on the witch's face widened. "Oh, I'm sure he did, but he's still a smart wizard. He knows who really runs this department. He's more of a figurehead than a department head. That's why he got the job. We looked pretty bad after that nasty business with Crouch."

"So he's always like this?" Ginny asked as she tossed a wary look down the hall to his office.

"Oh, he has his days. Don't trouble yourself about it, though. He can get a bit stormy at times, but he's all wind and no lightning. It's Mrs. Reading you need to mind."

"I'll remember that," Ginny said with a thankful nod. "So when do I get to start writing essays about cauldron bottom thickness and the dangers of importing foreign inkwells?"

Mrs. Candlewright broke out laughing. Her voice was surprisingly clear and cheerful, and the echoing tones forced Ginny to smile. "Oh, never, dear. We've got other people to do that. We need you for more specialized work than that." She paused and her face relaxed into a more serious expression. "Now, it's not likely to be at all difficult for you at first, and it may even get tedious, but on the whole it shouldn't be too bad, and it will get more challenging soon enough." Her face broke back into a smile. "It's easy to deal with cauldrons and inkwells. Handling witches and wizards can be downright impossible."

The sound a slamming door echoed down the corridor, Ginny controlled her urge to turn and see who was walking toward her. A moment later, a voice was addressing her.

"Miss Weasley?" Mrs. Reading called out. Ginny turned to face her. She quickly closed the distance between them and held out her hand. "I'd like to welcome you to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Of course, I can't officially welcome you, as Ferdinand refuses to send the owl until noon. Perhaps you'd like to step out and grab a bite to eat while you wait. We can start training you in as soon as you return, but I'll see that you get paid starting this very minute."

Ginny felt a smile creeping across her face. It did feel nice. She had a job. Of course, it might be a pain to deal with Mr. Harrington, but that didn't seem to matter. "Thank you," she said graciously, "but I'll just stay here if it's all the same. I don't really have any place I'd want to go."

"Why not go celebrate with your friend?" Mrs. Candlewright offered. Ginny gave her a strange look.

"Who would that be?" she asked.

The other witch gave her an uncertain look. "I don't rightly know. She didn't give her name. She said she'd wait by the lifts. Said you'd be expecting her."

Ginny froze and felt the blood drain from her face. She knew immediately who it had to be. She really should have been expecting her, and she had even less desire to talk to her right now. Why couldn't she just start working now? She'd hoped she wouldn't have to do this for some time. There hadn't been any time to think of what she'd say.

"Is everything alright, Miss Weasley?" Mrs. Reading asked with a small amount of fear. "Should I call the Aurors?"

"No," Ginny replied faintly. "It won't do any good."

Without another word, Mrs. Reading strode past Ginny on a path toward the lifts. Ginny nodded and thanked Mrs. Candlewright, who looked a little worried. She then trudged off behind Mrs. Reading, knowing what she would find when she reached the lifts. Before she reached the small hall, she could hear Mrs. Reading's voice echoing back to her.

"I assume you have some business here?"

"I'm here to speak with a friend, Ginny Weasley," a familiar voice responded stiffly. "If she's got an ounce of sense left in her head, she'll be expecting me."

"Perhaps," Mrs. Reading replied in a surprisingly cold voice. "Unfortunately, she's terribly busy at the moment. You may wait in the Entrance Hall for her. She'll find you when she's done."

Ginny reached the last corner and paused for a moment. The tone of Mrs. Reading's voice had changed dramatically. She no longer sounded friendly and encouraging. Now she was stern and severe. Ginny didn't look forward to having to face her, but it wasn't fair to force Hermione to do it, either. She closed her eyes and walked around the corner.

"Hello there, Ginny," Hermione greeted her flatly. "Had a bit of trouble finding the Auror Headquarters, did you?"

"Hello, Hermione," Ginny replied hesitantly.

"Hermione?" Mrs. Reading said. "Hermione Granger?" Ginny nodded and kept herself from looking directly at her friend. Mrs. Reading pursed her lips and looked from one witch to the other. "I think I understand. Miss Weasley, can I assume that whatever danger Miss Granger poses to you is not unexpected or likely to prevent you from returning here within an hour?"

"If I wanted to attack her, I wouldn't do it over lunch," Hermione replied. "I'd poison her tonight when she stops by for dinner."

"Ah, poison. A murder between friends, then? Right then," Mrs. Reading said with a quick nod. "I see you two have some things to discuss. Will an hour be sufficient, Miss Weasley?"

"I certainly hope so," Ginny answered. She finally looked up to see Hermione giving her a disapproving glare. There was, however, no trace of real anger in it. Ginny gave her a hesitant smile, and received one in response.

A lift opened noisily at the end of the hall. Mrs. Reading nodded to Ginny before turning and walking back toward her office. Ginny silently followed Hermione to the lift.


	3. A New Task

Chapter 3

A New Task

Ginny and Hermione remained silent until they passed the shining golden gate leading to the Entrance Hall. Witches and wizards were all around them, waiting, talking, or queuing for the fireplaces.

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked, finally breaking a somewhat tense silence between the two of them.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione said with shallow smile. "I figured you already had some place in mind. I was hoping you'd actually tell me, since it sounds like I won't have Ferdinand Harrington to let me in on the secret this time."

"I didn't— It wasn't supposed to be a secret," Ginny replied quietly. "It wasn't an easy thing to do. I spent a lot of time thinking about it."

"Apparently," Hermione added in an annoyed tone. "It couldn't have been easy to set up two appointments on the same day. Well, congratulations. You've successfully pulled one over on me and most of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"I didn't mean to—"

"Of course you did," Hermione continued. "You knew what we'd say. And on today of all days. What do you think he—" Hermione cut herself short and looked away. There was another awkward silence while Ginny forced herself to relax and not get angry. Hermione eventually turned back and gave Ginny an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I... Well, they did hire you, didn't they?"

"Yes," Ginny answered with stiff nod. "I suppose I should thank you for the mediocre recommendation."

Hermione glared back at her. "Yes, well it might have been a lot better if I knew you were trying to get a job in the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Why should that have mattered?" Ginny said with a huff. "They were so desperate they would have taken anyone. All you had to do was assure them that hiring me wouldn't be the biggest mistake they've made in ten years."

"Yes, but if I'd known —if any of us had known— that you didn't want to be an Auror, we might have been able to get you something better than some assistant position in the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"I didn't want to work anywhere else," Ginny declared. "I... I think I want to do a bit of traveling for now." Hermione stepped closer to Ginny and stared into her eyes.

"Traveling," she whispered, "or searching?"

Ginny frowned and stepped away from her friend. "I don't know what you're talking about," she answered dismissively.

"Of course you do," Hermione countered. "Let's not talk about it here, though. Will you join me at my flat?" Ginny nodded, but Hermione gave her a dubious look. "You will?"

"Yes, Hermione," Ginny said with frustration. Ginny closed her eyes, focused on the little flat over Diagon Alley and after a brief squeezing sensation, opened her eyes to see Hermione's small but comfortable flat around her. She was one of only a very small number of people who were allowed to Apparate directly into the flat. Others had to Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron and walk. A few seconds later, Hermione herself popped into the room and let out a short sigh of relief upon seeing Ginny there.

Ginny looked away, not wanting to argue about Hermione's reaction. The flat wasn't terribly different from the last time she saw it. It had always been a conglomerate of tidiness and haphazard piles of miscellaneous things.

The flat was at the top of one of the taller buildings surrounding Diagon Alley. As a result, it was relatively quiet, except during rainy days, where the constant patter of rain became almost as annoying as the small leaks which seemed to defy all attempts at repair. When it wasn't raining, the low, peaked ceiling gave the place an atmosphere that felt almost as if you were standing in a shrunken cathedral.

Ginny walked about, trying to find something else to talk about. Hermione was still standing and looking at her expectantly. The main room seemed to have been tidied recently, so there was little for Ginny to discuss. Giving up, she found a comfortable looking chair and sat down.

"Would you like something to eat?" Hermione asked.

"Er... I'm not terribly hungry. Maybe some fruit or toast."

Hermione nodded and disappeared into her small kitchen. Ginny could hear some rummaging in cabinets followed by a few quick spells. Hermione emerged from the kitchen carrying a small tray with toast and sliced apples. Floating along behind her were a pair of mugs of butterbeer.

Hermione took a seat facing Ginny and started to eat a piece of toast. Ginny reached for the butterbeer instead. After a few hours of talking, her throat was starting to feel a bit dry. As she reached to place it on a table which wasn't really all that nearby, her eyes caught something that didn't really belong. Between the table and a set of shelves filled with books lay a pair of slightly worn trainers.

Ginny grabbed them and held them up for Hermione to see. "These look like Ron's shoes."

Hermione looked almost frightened. "Oh! Well, er... I didn't— Well, I did... I—" She paused to compose herself. "Yes, they're Ron's, of course. I'd forgotten they were there."

"You'd forgotten?" Ginny asked with a slight smile, glad that she was no longer the center of conversation. "You knew they were here at one time, but it's been so long that you forgot?"

"Well, yes, I guess," Hermione stammered. "I mean, well... no. Ron forgot them, obviously, but—"

"How did Ron forget them? You'd think he'd have noticed leaving without shoes, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied, exasperated. "He left an extra pair here a while ago, just in case, you know..." Hermione stopped and her eyes narrowed as she looked back at Ginny. "Quit that," she scolded. "You're changing the subject. We're supposed to be talking about why you took that job."

Ginny frowned and tossed the trainers onto the floor. "I'd rather talk about all the other things Ron's left here, _just in case_."

Hermione ignored the comment. "You know you're like a sister to me. I don't really care where you work, so long as you're happy. I know it's been hard for you. If this is what makes you happy, then I'm not going to stop you. But you must see why I'm worried. If you're doing this for some other reason, if you plan on using this job to try and look for—"

"I know what I'm doing, Hermione," Ginny interrupted as she tore a piece of toast in half.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Hermione replied. "You need to listen to me, Ginny. I know how you feel." Hermione walked over and crouched in front of Ginny. "I really do. I've felt the same way. You must let go. He's gone. You have to accept that and move on."

Ginny felt her throat tightening. She blinked away the blurriness in her eyes and stared back at Hermione. "He promised me he'd come back when he was done."

"He did what he had to do. You knew that. He did it to save us."

Ginny forced herself to swallow. Her eyes were still locked on Hermione's. Should she tell her? What would she say? _She'll say I'm imagining things_, Ginny thought. Still, there was no one else she would trust over Hermione.

"I've seen him," Ginny announced in a raspy voice. "I swear I have."

"You just want to see him," Hermione explained. "Don't do this to yourself. Harry's gone. He cared for you very much. He wouldn't want this." Hermione's eyes jerked to the side for an instant and when they turned back to Ginny, her mouth was falling into a frown.

"Look, I need to be off. They'll be expecting me back at the Ministry. Today's been bad enough already and I don't want to have to explain anything else." She stood up and gave Ginny a sympathetic look. "Will you come by for dinner? Please? I may not cook as well as your mum, but I know you don't want to go home tonight anyway. I promise I won't try to talk you out of anything." Ginny nodded silently.

"Alright. How about six o' clock?" Ginny nodded and gave her a weak smile. Hermione smiled back. "Feel free to stay here as long as you like. I'll see you tonight." With one last smile, Hermione closed her eyes and Disapparated with a light _pop_.

Ginny was left with even less to occupy her mind now. She stood up and paced around the small flat. She was unsure of what exactly Hermione had planned for that night. She'd seemed jumpy and somewhat tense. It sounded as if her day hadn't gotten any better since that morning. Just as Ginny found a stack of old issues of the _Daily Prophet,_ she heard a tapping at the window.

A quick glance revealed exactly what she'd expected: A ministry owl carrying a large, official-looking roll of parchment. She calmly opened the window and took the roll from the owl, who promptly turned and flew off.

The message was just as uninteresting as she expected. For the size of the roll, it had been surprisingly brief. She had been hired as an assistant to Mrs. Reading, and was expected to report back to the Department within an hour. She rolled the parchment back up and took a deep breath. She might as well start as soon as possible. With any luck, she'd be able to leave well before six o' clock. She'd hoped to be able to run an errand before she joined Hermione for lunch.

As the clock on the far wall passed five o' clock, Ginny looked up from the book in front of her to see Mrs. Reading silently scratching away at some parchment in front of her. She'd made absolutely no move to stop, and had not so much as glanced at the clock since Ginny had started reading. If Ginny was supposed to be her assistant, it seemed reasonable to expect that she would have to stay here until Mrs. Reading left.

With a sigh, she returned to the book. The book was enjoyable in much the same way as tending flobberworms: It seemed completely pointless, completely boring and yet still managed to hold your attention enough to keep you from thinking about anything else. It was an old book, but it was in excellent condition. It was titled _The History of International Quidditch Regulation_ and considering the subject matter, it was easy to see why it wasn't terribly popular.

She couldn't force herself to actually find any interest in the dry recounting of arguments between the German and Spanish national teams in 1929 or the boycott of the World Cup by the Balkan teams in 1951. None of it seemed to be useful at all. Many of the rule changes described had been superseded four or five times. Despite the enjoyment she got from Quidditch, the book seemed to be little more than a journal of pointless squabbling between arrogant wizards.

"Am I expected to remember all of this?" Ginny finally asked.

Mrs. Reading jerked her head up from the parchment in front of her. "What? Oh... Oh, no, of course not," she said with a quick laugh. "I figured it was a good place for you to start, since, well, you'll be speaking with the people who will be writing the next chapter, so to speak. It's best you know how it started."

"How long will it take me to finish it?"

"How long? Oh, I don't expect you to finish it," she answered. "To be honest, I didn't really expect you to truly read it. Now, there is some amount of useful information in that book, but on the whole its best lesson is that these things revolve around a group of pompous wizards arguing about very little. Once you've got that, there isn't much more point in reading."

"I think I've been there for an hour," Ginny said flatly.

"Right. Then feel free to leave. Tomorrow will be more research, I'm afraid, but we'll find a way to get you out of the office soon enough." She paused to look at the clock. "Oh, dear. I've kept you much longer than I planned. I'm terribly sorry. Go, go. I'm sure there are plenty of people you'll want to talk to ."

With a friendly wave, she said goodbye to Ginny and returned to the parchment in front of her. Ginny shrugged and quietly left. She wished Mrs. Candlewright a pleasant evening and made her way to the lifts. A minute later, she was joining the stream of wizards passing through the gate into the Ministry's Entrance Hall. She had forty minutes until she'd agreed to meet Hermione. That should be plenty of time. She had something she still needed to do today. She found an open spot in the hall, stopped, concentrated on her destination, and vanished.

The house looked the same as it always had. Several people had considered trying to clean up its appearance, but no one ever got around to actually doing it. Instead it seemed that everyone simply wished to forget about it. There was no one left to claim it. It was just another derelict home of a wizarding line that had vanished.

Ginny searched the street for some time before making any move. Once she was satisfied that no one was really watching, she calmly crossed the street, walked to the front door, turned the handle and silently entered Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

The house was warm and somewhat musty, but comfortable for the most part. The portrait of Sirius' mother was silent and frozen in a grimace. It had been that way for a year. Whatever had been done to it seemed to be permanent. As Ginny walked toward the kitchen, torches on either side of her flared to life, illuminating the corridor. When she reached the door, she froze.

She could hear footsteps coming from the other side. Pulling her wand, she flattened herself against the wall and extinguished the closest pair of torches. The footsteps approached the door, then stopped and slowly walked away. Ginny could feel her heart pounding. Had someone broken into the house? How could they? The wards were supposed to keep everyone away.

A horrible thought entered her mind. Bellatrix Lestrange had never been found. What if she found this place? Could she claim it? Ginny tried to reassure herself that if that had happened, she never would have been able to enter. It had to be an intruder. Someone must have made it past the wards. Gripping her wand, she vowed to do the only thing she could: defend Grimmauld Place.

With one swift movement, she lunged for the door and wrenched it open. The dim light of the room cast shadows everywhere, but in the center of all of it, an indistinct shape stood at the near end of the table, shrouded in shadow. Ginny rushed forward and aimed her wand directly at it.

"Kreacher isn't afraid of the little blood-traitor's wand," it croaked at her.

Ginny aimed her wand at the fireplace and a moment later a large fire was roaring, bathing the room in bright, flickering light. Standing nearby and gnawing on some old bread was Kreacher the house-elf. He was looking at Ginny with intense hatred.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked firmly.

"Kreacher is a house-elf. This is a house. Perhaps the vile traitor has spent too much time with Mudbloods. They have weakened her head."

"Leave, Kreacher," Ginny ordered, "I'm not here to listen your mindless ramblings."

He glared at her. "She addresses Kreacher as if he was her servant. What a horrible day that would be," he mumbled. "Kreacher does what he wants. The little one cannot tell Kreacher what to do. She is not his mistress. This is not her house." His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. In a louder voice, he said, "She doesn't belong here. She must leave."

Ginny walked over to where Kreacher sat and stared at him defiantly. "If I don't belong here, then make me leave."

He hissed at her but did nothing. Slowly he climbed down to the floor and threw the bread into the fire. "Filthy blood traitor. She knows too much. She knows what Master told him before he disappeared. She doesn't belong here. She only comes to torment Kreacher and defile the great house of his old Mistress. Oh, she'll be a cruel mistress someday. Kreacher sees it already."

He gave her a look of barely restrained fury and then simply disappeared with a light _crack_. She'd known for some time that Kreacher still lived in the house. She'd been there many times over the last year, but had only seen Kreacher three times. His mood hadn't seemed to have improved in the least over the that time. However, whatever Harry had told him before he left had worked. Kreacher kept the house much cleaner than it had been when Ginny had been living here with the Order of the Phoenix.

She walked about the kitchen lighting more torches. A quick check of the cupboards confirmed her previous observations. Beyond simply cleaning the house, Kreacher had also been keeping the place stocked with a respectable amount of food. Of course, it seemed he'd also been eating a good deal of it.

For a while Ginny simply sat at the table doing nothing. She wasn't sure just why she felt the need to come here. There really wasn't anything any more special about this day than the previous one, or the next. Harry hadn't returned on any of the days before this, why would he return today?

Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe she should let go. Maybe she shouldn't have come here. What good could it do? Each time she came here, she never left feeling any better. It always reminded her of that first night she spent in the kitchen, waiting for him to return. She'd waited until she'd collapsed the next morning. It'd been a horrible summer, and she'd barely endured her final year at Hogwarts. Coming here now just reminded her of all of that.

And yet, she knew in her heart that she would always return here. There was something about this place that still gave her some comfort. Nothing else gave her quite the same feeling. The house had been Harry's. He'd commanded Kreacher to take care of it, and he'd made sure that Ron, Hermione and Ginny would be able to use it if they needed to. It was the last gift he'd given her, and she didn't want to ever throw that away.

She only had half an hour before she was supposed to meet Hermione. It wouldn't give her much time, but it should be enough. She had an idea. If it worked, it might raise her spirits a little bit.

She rummaged around the cabinets for a while, trying to find enough of the ingredients. Her mother always made it look so easy. She couldn't find a bowl quite large enough, but a flick of her wand changed that. The focus required to charm two bowls to mix themselves was a good distraction from her past thoughts, and the results were indeed cheering her up. After the clever use of a Hover Charm in the fireplace and some quick cleanup, Ginny was left with what looked to be a perfectly good, if rather small, chocolate cake.

From another bowl, she spread a slightly messy layer of white frosting over the small cake. It was hardly larger than a tea saucer, but the process was more difficult than Ginny had expected. When she was finished, she realized it was already six o' clock. She ignored the rest of the mess she'd created. She simply didn't have much sympathy toward Kreacher at the moment.

She walked quickly to one of the cabinets and opened it. Inside were a number of extra robes and other clothes that she'd stashed there for the occasional times she would stay there to escape the rest of the wizarding world. She dressed quickly and carefully, hoping that Hermione wouldn't be able to tell she hadn't been home. She tossed the old robes into the cabinet and then shut and locked it. She walked back toward the door to the hallway, but stopped upon seeing the cake again.

It was just sitting there, plain and unadorned. It looked almost depressing. Ginny pulled her wand again and concentrated for a moment. With a swish of her wand, the frosting turned a deep but soft shade of green. She searched the room quickly and pulled down the smallest candle she could find. She gently placed it in the center of the cake, and lit it with her wand. The flame jumped and danced about playfully. Ginny smiled at her work.

"Happy Birthday, Harry Potter."

She turned and walked off, leaving the candle burning. It just didn't feel right blowing it out. As she reached the door, she heard a creak on the stairs. She pulled out her wand again and jumped forward to where the staircase joined the hallway.

"That cake is not for you, Kreacher," she growled at the elf standing at the foot of the stairs. "I'll be back for it later. Don't you dare eat it."

Kreacher returned a look full of loathing and disgust. "Kreacher wouldn't dream of eating anything created by horrible traitorous brats."

Ginny considered returning to the cake and finding some charm that might repel Kreacher, but thought better of it. She didn't have time. Kreacher would do what he wanted, and he was probably telling the truth in this case. He wouldn't want to take the risk that the cake might somehow contaminate him.

Ginny made her way to the front door and quietly walked out of the house. Once outside she quickly walked across the street and ducked into the alleyway between two tall, old houses. She did one last check for any Muggles who might be watching, and then Dissapparated.

When Ginny arrived at Hermione's flat, she found her pacing about and looking more than a little worried. She refused to explain what exactly had been worrying her, but Ginny could tell that Hermione's day had been even worse than hers. She wondered what exactly could have happened to make that be true.

Whatever the cause for her mood, Hermione quickly hid it and returned to the kitchen where she seemed to be happily finishing the preparations for dinner. She refused to answer any of Ginny's promptings about the cause for her anxiety. and instead insisted that it was nothing and that she'd simply had a bad day.

This explanation was enough to convince Ginny that there really was much more to that day's story than she was being told. She was equally convinced that Hermione had no intention of revealing any of it. Ginny had just as little intention to speak about her day, and reluctantly joined Hermione at the small wooden table.

The meal was just as awkward as she had expected. With neither of them willing to discuss their days, they were left to lamely discuss the next most important thing they shared in common: Ron.

Hermione nimbly dodged a series of questions revolving around the existence of Ron's shoes and a pair of spare robes in her flat, and retaliated by asking Ginny where she had been earlier that week when she and Ron had tried to find her to tell her about the celebration Fred and George had planned for Weasley Wizarding Wheezes' third year in business.

Of course, Hermione probably knew exactly where Ginny was, and Ginny was pretty certain that Ron spent more time at Hermione's flat than she spent at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Under normal circumstances they might have been willing to share such things with each other, but after Harry had disappeared that summer, she found spending time with Hermione uncomfortable.

On the surface, she was the same Hermione as always. If you looked a little deeper, however, it was apparent that something had changed within her. She was more closed off, more reserved, but at the same time more prone to speaking out against things she felt were done unwisely. Ginny knew it was this new behavior that had prompted her invitation to dinner. She could see the questions and reprimands lurking behind Hermione's eyes.

When they both finally admitted to themselves that they weren't actually going to eat any more, they silently removed the food from the table. When it was gone, Ginny found Hermione watching her intently. She could have left without needing any further explanation, but that would just put off the inevitable. Instead, she walked into the living room and silently sat down on the couch. Hermione followed her and took a seat in a nearby chair. The sat for a moment, silent and waiting for the other to make the first move.

"What happened to change your mind?" Hermione finally asked. The words spilled out of her mouth as though she couldn't hold them back any longer.

"I'm not going to change it back," Ginny answered, anticipating the path the conversation was going to take.

"I wasn't going to try to convince you to," Hermione replied sincerely. "I just want— I'm curious to hear why you did." She was looking at Ginny oddly, as if she wasn't sure it was actually her friend in the room with her.

"Charlie," Ginny said in a low voice. She somehow felt it important that someone know the truth about it. However, the truth didn't seem to comfort Hermione at all. Ginny continued, hoping to help her understand. "The Aurors— I— I just don't know what to think about them anymore."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked with visible concern.

"They didn't even try to save him," Ginny explained. "There was something off about how they behaved. They were cold, almost aggressive. I guess I never noticed." Ginny paused and looked at her feet. "They looked like the Death Eaters."

"What are you saying, Ginny?" Hermione asked. "Are you saying they're all corrupt?"

"Why didn't they try and stop the Death Eaters? Isn't that what they are supposed to be doing? Was one stupid wand worth the lives of two wizards and a handful of escaped Death Eaters?" Ginny responded. "I could never do that. If it hadn't been for the hoods and masks, I'd have a hard time separating the Aurors from the Death Eaters."

"And all Aurors are the same? What about Tonks and Shacklebolt?" Hermione asked. "Are they no different?"

"No," Ginny answered quickly. "That's not what I said, Well, if you believe Luna, there's a group of Aurors who've formed their own little club, and they don't seem to be following the Ministry's orders."

Hermione frowned upon hearing Luna's name. "You know you can't trust the _Quibbler_."

"Right, then. I'll just believe that the Aurors have started competing with the Death Eaters," Ginny said sarcastically. "They both seemed to have the exact same objective, and just as much care for anyone that got in the way." Hermione was staring out the window. Her jaw was set and her eyes were completely still. Ginny felt guilt creeping up her spine.

"I just don't know what to think right now," she said quietly. Hermione still didn't respond or make any motion. Ginny looked away, feeling almost embarrassed. "I was going to stop by and talk to Luna tomorrow evening," she said, if only to fill the silence. "There's usually some small bit of truth to all her stories. I thought I might be able to find something useful in whatever it is she's heard." Hermione closed her eyes and turned from the window.

"Ginny..." Hermione said, then paused to rub her eyes. "I can't let you do that," she finished in a pained voice.

"You— What?" Ginny stammered. "What makes you think that you can tell me what I can't do?"

"I showed you the Spectrecorder," Hermione explained as she stared at her feet. "You weren't meant to see it. If I hadn't broken the rules, you wouldn't be doing any of this."

"You mean I wouldn't know the truth!" Ginny replied in outrage.

Hermione glanced at Ginny, then turned away and shook her head. "No, I mean you wouldn't believe the lies I showed you."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "How could you—"

"I swear I didn't know at the time," Hermione apologized. "I didn't see it the first time either, but when I showed it to you I noticed some odd things." She spoke in an almost panicked pace, as if she thought Ginny might run off before hearing it all. "I noticed something odd about one of the Aurors. I'd seen him before, but he wasn't an Auror. So I figured that he was just an Unspeakable who'd joined the fight. They always have their identities hidden or removed. I came in late one night to look at it again and found out they'd done much more than that. There were no Aurors there, at least not fighting. The pair stunned by the fireplaces were probably Aurors, and I'm certain the ones who found Charlie were Aurors as well. But none of the rest of them."

This caught Ginny's attention immediately. They weren't Aurors? Were they in costumes? Or had the Ministry completely replaced them? How many other wizards had been replaced?

"What about Charlie?" she asked desperately.

Hermione's face softened. "No. No, I'm afraid he was real. All the Aurors you saw, the one's who felt off to you, they were... Well, they weren't Aurors. They were something else."

Something about how Hermione said it felt suspicious to Ginny. "Something else?" she asked. "What do you mean? Are they vampires or something?"

"No, no," Hermione said quickly. She looked around the room quickly, as if the lamps might be spying on her. "There isn't much I can say for certain, but perhaps the _Quibbler _isn't quite as far from the truth as it normally is." She dropped her voice and leaned closer to Ginny. "There is a group of wizards about that doesn't take orders from the Ministry. They're vigilantes of some sort, I'd guess. When the Death Eaters broke into the Department of Mysteries, these vigilantes were there with them, but they were trying to stop them. They killed two Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, one just outside my door."

Ginny tried to remember what she'd seen in the Spectrecorder again. That might explain some of their behavior.

"So they were dark wizards?" she asked.

"Oh, no. Not at all," Hermione replied immediately. "At least, not at all like the Death Eaters. From what I've heard, they've done some things that don't sound very good, but they fought the Death Eaters, and I'm certain they were there to stop the Death Eaters from stealing the wand."

"Why the secrecy then?"

"We don't know what they are, but we do know who a few of them are," Hermione explained. "I've only heard rumors, but it sounds like there are a couple of Aurors as well as the son or daughter of someone in the Minister's office."

"What do they want?" she asked.

"No one really knows what they want. Maybe they don't even know. All anyone knows is that they weren't helping the Death Eaters and they were willing to do almost anything to stop whoever took the wand."

"They sound alright to me," Ginny replied.

"It's more complicated than that," Hermione replied in a warning tone. "They're dangerous, Ginny. They're unstable."

"What do you mean? They're unhinged?"

"No, the Death Eaters are predictable. We know what they're up to. We know how they will act," Hermione explained slowly. "These... other wizards, they do things that don't make sense. One day they're helping the Ministry, and the next they aren't. They do things without any reason. They're unpredictable. They're unstable. They act almost like mercenaries, but no one has heard of any way to buy them. I wouldn't rely on them to help anyone."

"Charlie did," Ginny argued. "He must have known about them. When the thief showed up, he called them instead of the Aurors."

Hermione jerked upright in her chair and stared at Ginny in fear. "Listen to me, Ginny," she said seriously. "You're not the first one to notice that. This is a very perilous subject. I wish I could tell you more, but no one will tell me anything more. I know what you're thinking. I know what you want to ask. There are very dangerous wizards searching for the same answers you are."

"You're saying that I shouldn't try to figure out why my brother was killed?" Ginny asked defiantly.

"I'm telling you that if you find out, there will be a number of very powerful wizards searching for you," Hermione corrected her. "I understand why you want to know, but you have to trust me. It's not worth finding. Let others look for it. When I hear anything, I'll let you know."

"Oh, I'll just go about my life then, right?" Ginny snapped. "I'll just sit around and wait for everyone else to find out what's going on. I'll hide from anything that might be dangerous and hope that everyone else will make sure everything gets fixed." She stood up and glared at Hermione. "That worked smashingly last time, didn't it?"

Hermione looked appropriately ashamed. "I understand, Ginny. I can only imagine what that was like, but please listen to me. This is a different situation. There's something more happening. I'm telling you you'll put yourself in danger if you go looking for your answers."

"Then I'll be in danger," Ginny replied numbly. "I don't care anymore. What else do I have?"

"You have your friends," Hermione answered. "You have me."

"Do I?"

Hermione stared at her for a moment before nodding. "Yes." She frowned and sighed. "Go on then. Look for your answers. I'll do whatever I can. Just promise that you won't be completely reckless."

"I won't," Ginny said with a slight smile, her first genuine show of happiness all night. "Not completely, at least." Ginny looked away. It felt better knowing that she wouldn't have to keep secrets from Hermione. She had something to focus on now. Something to help her take her mind off all of the other things which had been consuming her. There was still one last thing to do, though. "I think I should be going," she announced softly.

"Look, I'm sorry about today," Hermione apologized. "I know how hard it must have been, I had wanted to make it easier and instead... well, I'm sorry. I guess it's still too soon for me as well. You can stay here if you like."

"No, I think I'll be fine. Thanks, though."

Ginny stood on the pavement in front of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for some time, simply looking at the battered house and trying to work out her own thoughts. She wasn't giving up. She'd promised herself long ago that she'd never give up on him. She was just focusing on something a little more pressing. She may not have much time to figure out what had happened to Charlie. There would be plenty of time when she finished that.

She wasn't giving up.

She took a deep breath and crossed the street. After quickly entering the house, she headed directly for the kitchen. In her head, it seemed like a silly gesture, but her heart told her that she would feel better having done it. She needed to leave this place as she'd found it. She had no idea when she would ever be returning.

Once she reached the kitchen, however, she wished she'd never come back. In the center of the table was a single plate with a number of crumbs scattered about it. The candle had been extinguished and lay stuck to the table in a small pool of hardened wax.

"I should have poisoned it," she said aloud.

"Kreacher!" she shouted to the ceiling. "If I ever see you around this house again, you'll find out just how horrible of a mistress I could be!"

She vanished the plate and candle and left the old house. She wouldn't be needing it for some time, not until she'd figured out why Charlie had been killed. She turned back to look at it one last time as she prepared to Disapparate. "Goodbye for now," she whispered.

She wasn't giving up.

She closed her eyes and tried to convince herself of that. With a _pop_, she vanished.


	4. Bitterness and Betrayal

Chapter 4

Bitterness and Betrayal

Over the next week, Ginny fell into something of a routine. She'd show up at the Department of International Magical Cooperation early in the morning, speak with Mrs. Reading about her tasks for the day, and then work almost continuously until late in the afternoon. Only rarely would she stop for lunch, and then only if she was forced to wait because someone else had decided to actually take a break from their job.

This self-imposed schedule served two main purposes. First, it kept her almost constantly busy, giving Mr. Harrington few opportunities to speak with her. Second, it allowed her to leave earlier than normal. This left her some time between leaving the Ministry and the time when her mother would expect her to return. When Mrs. Reading had asked where she went, Ginny told her that she simply enjoyed being able to take some time to relax before she went home.

It was the truth, for the most part. Her days could get quite wearing. For now, her job seemed to consist almost entirely of reading books and reports and listening to other people talk. No one really expected her to answer any questions or make any decisions. Often she wasn't even expected to speak. She was just supposed to sit and learn.

It was like a History of Magic class, only with a slightly more interesting subject. Almost everything she was learning had some connection to Quidditch. She'd read a dozen reports on international sporting event regulations, and spent enough time in the Department of Magical Games and Sports that many of the wizards there were under the impression she worked for them and not Mrs. Reading. Still, she wished she'd been allowed to actually do something. Of course, it was certainly better than the alternative. In case there had been any doubt, she'd met the alternative exactly a week after she'd been hired on.

Evelyn Sibley wrote for the Department. She had apparently been working there for two years, and Mrs. Reading had privately explained that she wasn't the best writer they had, but had been hired as a favor to some other Ministry official. Ginny wondered why she was so different from Evelyn that had made Carmilla comment that they had better uses for her. Meeting Evelyn provided her with that answer.

Evelyn's office was at the far end of the long corridor which passed by most of the cubicles. It was large, and had two windows which were displaying a rather cheerful spring day. The room itself felt light and airy. Ginny took a seat in one of the wooden chairs against the wall and allowed Mrs. Reading to take the more comfortable-looking leather chair near the desk.

As Ginny looked at Evelyn, she wondered if it were possible for her to look more excited and happy. It must be possible, she thought to herself; even Moaning Myrtle smiled on occasion. Evelyn Sibley, however, exuded an acute bitterness and intense loathing of the world around her that made even Myrtle seem optimistic. Dark brown hair hung haphazardly from her head. Her eyes were of a similar color and seemed to be unable to do anything other than glare at how wretched the world around her truly was. Her ill-fitting robes were plain and worn. The only thing about her that looked well-kept was a small, heart-shaped gold locket, which hung about her neck looking like it belonged there as much as one might expect a bulb of garlic hung around a vampire's neck.

Since the moment she'd entered, Evelyn's eyes had deemed Ginny to be the most wretched thing around, and they watched her with an intensity that Ginny found quite unnerving. She looked about the office, searching for anything to distract her from the witch glowering at her. She was sadly disappointed. The office was depressingly empty.

"Good afternoon, Evelyn," Mrs. Reading said as she sat down. "This is Ginny Weasley."

"Ginny," Evelyn said with obvious distaste. "How cute," she said under her breath. "It's supposed to be Ginevra, isn't it?" Ginny nodded slowly, unsure of just how to react. Evelyn frowned and finally blinked. "My father used to call me Evie. What a repulsive name. It should be a crime to force such a horrible name on a child. Of course, some people actually enjoy it. Bloody morons ruin it for the rest of us."

"Well, er... I'm sorry to hear that, Evelyn," Mrs. Reading said with a cheerful voice, "I felt the two of you should meet. Ginny's just started—"

"I heard," Evelyn replied with a thin smile. "She's Arthur Weasley's daughter, isn't she? From the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

"Yes, that's right," Mrs. Reading answered. "She'll be assisting me with this Quidditch business. More to the point, she'll be dealing with the French delegation next week."

"Of course she will," Evelyn remarked sourly. "She'll do wonderfully, I'm certain."

"Yes, I... er, I think she'll do just fine," Mrs. Reading agreed warily. "I thought it might be best if you could share anything you might know about the situation."

Ginny didn't quite know how to interpret Evelyn's response. She seemed angry about it, but she really seemed angry about pretty much everything. Before Ginny could decide exactly how to handle the situation, Mrs. Reading was standing and wishing her luck before quickly leaving the room. Ginny tried to conceal her discomfort with being left alone.

"So you need to learn about the French delegation?" Evelyn grumbled as she flipped through a stack of parchment.

"Er, I guess I do," Ginny responded weakly. "I... I don't really know much about them at all. For instance, I haven't really heard what they are a delegation to."

A hissing laugh filtered through the tangled curtain of hair hiding Evelyn's face. "Just a pretty face wrapped around the mind of a troll, are you?" she sneered. "It's a Quidditch World Cup delegation. They cast votes to decide where the next championship will be held. Of course, the French are pushing for a site in France. The Bulgarians and the Swiss are arguing pretty strongly for a site in Bulgaria. There are a couple other countries hoping they could host it, but they're just fooling themselves."

She pulled out a roll of parchment and unrolled it to look at it closer. "It's all a pile of rubbish, anyway. I don't know why anyone wastes all this time with such a wretched bore of a sport. I'd rather listen to a mermaid choir than sit through a minute of that mindless idiocy. Here," she said as she handed the roll to Ginny. "Read that— I assume you can read, can't you?"

"Yes," Ginny growled.

"Well, you are well trained, aren't you?" Evelyn mumbled as she started searching for something else. "You want to know about the French? Well, it won't take long. Even considering the stuff you might not understand, there isn't much to tell. The want to host the championship. They've been trying to convince others to support them, but they're not terribly good at it. The only reason the vote is going to be close is due to the fact that it seems like Bulgaria has a good shot of actually playing in the championship match, and some people feel that it will somehow be more disappointing if they lose to them in Bulgaria than if they lose to them in France. I feel the disappointing part is the shocking amount of time they spend arguing about it."

"Anyway, the Minister refused to meet with the French delegation a while back, so now they've decided they'll try and convince the players directly. A few days ago, they requested a meeting with the Tornadoes. The Ministry gave in and arranged for them to have a private box at the the match next Tuesday. So long as they are pleased with the meeting, the French Ministry has agreed to put an end to unicorn smuggling across the channel."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing important," Evelyn replied flatly. "In fact, if you're doing something and it feels important, you're probably doing it wrong. You just go sit in your box and be your normal, pleasant, pretty, friendly, vapid self and I'm sure you'll do just fine."

"That's all I'm supposed to do? Just sit there?"

"Please," Evelyn snorted as she looked up from the stack of reports. "You don't think they hired you based on your N.E.W.T. scores, do you?" When she saw Ginny's reaction, she just laughed and shook her head. "You were hired because your father works for the Ministry, because you're attractive, and because you have a cute name that is impossible to use in an argument without looking completely absurd."

Ginny was dumbfounded.

"As I was saying, they're just there to meet the Tornadoes. All you've got to do is keep them happy. That should be fairly easy for you. Of course, two of them are witches and they probably won't find you as charming, but you can ignore them. One is over one hundred years old, and the other barely speaks. Feel free to try and please them if you like. But, as long as you keep the head of the delegation happy, you should be fine."

"How will I know which one is the head?" Ginny asked apprehensively. She simply wished for this to be over so she could leave.

Evelyn tossed a photo at her. The wizard in the photo had dark hair and a smug arrogance to his smile. "His name is Henri D'Anneau. He's young, new to their Ministry, and full of ambition. You shouldn't have much trouble relating to him," she added with a bitter smile. "There are rumors that he went to Durmstrang, which seems to fit since he's got friends in Germany, Hungary and Poland. There's also a rumor that he has a certain fondness for witches who've just left school, so if your untalented brother puts in his usual performance you shouldn't have any trouble finding other ways of entertaining him."

Ginny's jaw dropped as she shot out of her chair. "How dare you—"

"Since you're standing, I'll assume that we're done here," Evelyn interrupted. "You should leave now. I'd wish you good luck, but I couldn't really care less how it all turns out."

Ginny stormed out of Evelyn's office. When she reached her desk, she found Mrs. Reading waiting for her with an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry about that," she said with a weak smile. "Normally she's a bit more restrained."

"Is it something I did?"

"No," Mrs. Reading replied. "A long time ago, Evelyn lost an argument with rest of the world. She still hasn't forgiven us for that. It has created a bit of a problem. We can't very well send her out to meet with anyone, but no one really wants her around here either."

"Am I going to have to talk to her a lot?" Ginny asked, though she was afraid to hear the answer.

"Luckily, no," Mrs. Reading answered with a smile. "Only when you need information quickly. I assume you got everything you'll need?"

"I hope so."

"Good. You can leave early if you like. You've been through quite enough today."

A few minutes later, Ginny arrived in the Leaky Cauldron. Tom waved at her from the bar and pushed the most recent copy of the _Daily Prophet _toward her. She picked it up off the bar and took it to a small table along the wall.

For the past week, she'd come here every day after leaving the Ministry. Tom no longer asked what she wanted when she came in. He merely gave her a friendly nod and passed her the _Prophet_. Though it was quite a bit easier than listening to old wizards argue about the best Bludger maker, she wasn't really here to relax.

Something strange was happening in the wizarding world. Voldemort had been defeated, but the Death Eaters remained, though their numbers were shrinking. One of the big reasons appeared to be the emergence of the grey-cloaked wizards she'd seen in the Spectrecorder. The Department of Mysteries knew about them. The Death Eaters knew about them. Charlie had even found them.

Ginny was certain that if she simply paid attention, she'd eventually find them as well. She had decided the best way of actually accomplishing that would be to spend time in places where wizards gathered. She only read the _Prophet_ to appear occupied. She spent most of her time scanning the room and keeping a close watch on the doors and fireplaces. Today there was even less to read than usual. The front page had a story about the French delegation visiting the upcoming Quidditch match, but it didn't say anything she didn't already know. She'd given up on the whole thing after the next few articles, and focused instead on watching everyone around her.

After only a few days, she'd memorized all of the bar's usual occupants. Shortly after she normally arrived, a pair of witches would walk in the door from Muggle London and sit in one of the back tables laughing and glaring at anyone who walked by them. There was also an old wizard with a black beard who had been there every day except Thursday. He usually sat at a square table in the center of the room and played wizarding chess with anyone he could convince to join him.

The four wizards sitting at the bar seemed to be more like furnishings than customers. They had been there before Ginny arrived every day that week, and she'd never seen any of them leave. One of them, an wizened old wizard the others called Lord Albert, wore a tall crimson hat on his head, tall leather boots on his feet, and a tall bottle of Firewhiskey in his left hand. In his right hand was a glass which he concentrated on keeping empty at all times. All evidence suggested that he had been drunk well before Ginny had ever arrived at the bar, yet Ginny wondered if that was the correct word for it. It seemed more likely that this was simply his normal state and that Firewhiskey was some essential ingredient for his life.

Despite the somewhat disturbing spectacle of a thoroughly drunken wizard, she was thankful for the distraction he provided. With him shouting garbled jokes at his three friends at the bar, few people found any reason to pay attention to her. His wild antics also meant that others found a similar amount of privacy here.

Once she'd figured out who to expect there every day, it became easier to spot anyone who didn't fit in. The previous night she had spotted a curious meeting between three wizards. They had taken advantage of a particularly loud and incoherent story from Lord Albert to discuss something quite serious. Even more interesting was a white haired wizard in a deep purple cloak who watched them intently from the far corner.

She had never seen the white haired wizard before. He hadn't looked very old at all. Most of his face was hidden under the shadows of his hood, but he had a short goatee and his face lacked any of the normal signs of old age. He hadn't taken a seat at any table and instead chose to simply stand quietly in the shadowy corner and watch the people around him. He'd been there for some time before she had noticed him. That fact disturbed her, and she wondered if it was possible she had missed him before. With any luck, he would return and she would have a chance to follow him when he left.

She didn't see him tonight, however. As the night wore on, she had less and less hope that he might return. The two witches at the back table had left, and a group of young wizards had taken their place. The old wizard at the chess board had long ago beaten his last opponent. Ginny looked up at the clock. It was nearly seven o' clock. She'd missed dinner. She shook her head and stood up. He wasn't coming back. At least, not anytime soon. Remaining there and looking for him would only make her look suspicious, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"Thanks, Tom," she called out as she slapped the _Daily Prophet_ on the bar.

"Thank you, Tommy," Lord Albert mimicked before collapsing in a fit of laughter.

"Ignore him," Tom said quietly. "It's beyond me how he actually manages to speak after all that." He picked up the _Prophet_ and shook his head at the article on the front page. "The Tornadoes and the Cannons? What's the point?"

Ginny would have responded, but something much more interesting than the upcoming Quidditch match. Sandwiched between an advertisement for the newest Cleansweep broom and Madam Malkin's was a dense column of tiny text with a small picture. It was nearly unreadable, but the headline and the photos above it had caught her attention.

"Tom, may I have that back for a moment?" she asked politely. He shrugged and returned it to her before returning himself to the customers at the other end of the bar. Ginny found a dark corner and started reading.

TROUBLE IN TRANSYLVANIA HAUNTS HOSTING HOPES

A number of wizards from the Quidditch World Cup Site Selection Committee have canceled their planned visits to the prospective site being presented by Romanian officials. Delegations from Ireland, Germany and Egypt announced the change in plans early this morning after reports of security breaches both at the newly constructed pitch and at the Romanian Ministry itself.

The Romanian Minister downplayed the severity of both attacks, claiming that neither attack had put any wizard in danger. "This is undoubtedly the work of saboteurs wishing to decrease Romania's chances of hosting the next Quidditch World Cup." He urged the delegations to contact him about selecting another time to visit.

Fenkirk Shaughnessy, the head of the Irish delegation, says he's in no hurry to reschedule. "It's just not worth the risk," he said in a recent interview. "They cannot even make it safe enough for a visit by Selection Committee officials. How can we know they'll be able to make it safe enough for a hundred thousand spectators?" The members of the German delegation refused to comment on the Romanian site, but did say they were looking forward to meeting with Bulgarian officials next week.

Despite disappointing performances from their national team in the past, Romanian officials had high hopes for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. A new pitch has been constructed specifically for holding the World Cup. It is reportedly the largest, most luxurious, and most easily accessed site being considered. Romanian officials are claiming that they can fill the grounds without any Muggle notice in just two days.

Of course, the reason this is possible is the very reason why the location is undesirable. The only nearby towns, a pair of Muggle villages and a small wizarding settlement, were completely destroyed two months ago when a pair of dragons escaped from their pens nearby and went on a rampage across the countryside. The handlers responsible for the dragons claim the escape was caused by old equipment and insisted it would not happen again.

That might have been enough to comfort Shaughnessy and the rest of the Irish delegation, but this is not an isolated incident. Four months ago, a Ministry official and her family were killed in a string of werewolf attacks which claimed the lives of twenty-one wizards. A month before that, a confrontation in Korzha, just outside the Ministry castle, left a section of the town in flames. These events, combined with an epidemic of unexplained disappearances seem to have all but destroyed any hopes for a World Cup match in Romania.

Above the article were a pair of photos. One showed a small town set on the flat top of a large hill. Above the town wheeled a pair of dragons, a Chinese Fireball and what looked to be a Hungarian Horntail. Occasionally, they would swoop low and spew fire at some of the wooden buildings. The other photo showed the same hill, but the town had been replaced by a ring of tall stone towers overlooking a vibrant green pitch. The valley around the hill had a grid of paths marked with flags and signs.

Ginny stared at the photo with the dragons, then searched back in the article to find where they had been mentioned: _...completely destroyed two months ago pair of dragons escaped from their pens nearby and went on a rampage..._ Ginny walked back to the bar. If that had happened two months ago, it would have been a month before Charlie had died. He hadn't mentioned anything like that happening. How could he not have heard about dragons escaping and destroying three villages?

"You like the pretty dragons, eh Miss?" Lord Albert laughed. "Not nice, those dragons. Not nice at all. I use to hunt them in my day. I'd tie their tails to trees and use their flames to roast coneys." Hoarse laughter erupted from his throat, and he rocked back and forth in incoherent glee. He rocked a bit too far, and crashed to the floor. To Ginny's amazement, he didn't spill a single drop of Firewhiskey. As soon as he himself had confirmed this, he took a long gulp from his bottle, and laid back on the floor. "Ahh! Nothing's better than a pair of dragon roasted coneys! Don't even got to skin them!" he called out before returning to his laughter.

Tom shook his head and nodded to her as Ginny turned and walked toward the brick wall leading to Diagon Alley. She quickly tapped the bricks and waited for the doorway to open. Charlie must have heard about the dragons. He just hadn't told anyone about it. But why? If the _Daily Prophet_ knew about it, it couldn't be a secret.

Ginny stepped through the doorway and out into Diagon Alley. She tried to remember what had happened during the month before Charlie died. She searched her memory for anything that might be important but it was useless. She didn't remember ever seeing Charlie for that last month.

Perhaps that was the important point. The last six months had been rather strange in Romania, but Charlie hadn't mentioned any of it. Then it hit her. He hadn't mentioned the theft at the Ministry either, but he'd known about it. He had to have known about the werewolves and disappearances, too. What could have kept him from trying to tell anyone else?

She had to talk to someone, and there was one person who might be able to answer her questions. Ginny walked briskly down the street, looking for the distinctive, gabled roof of Hermione's flat. When she found it, she opened the building's heavy front door and quickly made her way up the long spiral staircase. When she reached the top, she could hear someone walking around on the other side of the door. Ginny gave the door two sharp knocks and waited for Hermione to greet her.

The door opened a second later, revealing a very surprised Hermione. "Oh, Ginny! Hello!" she said with a little relief. "I don't normally expect anyone to visit this late. Is anything wrong?"

Ginny walked in the door and waited for Hermione to close it. She looked about to try and figure out if anyone else was in the flat. When she was certain they were alone, she turned back to Hermione.

"I need to talk to you about Charlie," Ginny announced.

"Charlie? What exactly about Charlie?"

Ginny stepped closer and lowered her voice. "I think I've found something."

Anxiety flashed in Hermione's eyes and she looked away. "Oh, right. I, er... I'd love to hear it, but well—" Hermione turned away and rubbed her forehead as she walked back toward the kitchen. She stopped suddenly, and turned. "I have to go back to work tonight," she announced.

"Now?"

"Well, not just now, but—" Hermione stammered. "Well, actually yes. I might as well go now. It'll be better if I get there early."

Ginny's eyes narrowed as they watched Hermione gather one of her sets of robes for work and a pair of books. "Is something wrong, Hermione?"

"Wrong? No, no. I'm just—well, I wasn't really expecting anyone and now I've got to go. You don't mind, do you?" she asked without looking at Ginny.

"I guess not."

"Oh, good. Thanks for understanding. I'm really sorry," Hermione said as she strode toward the door. "If you're hungry, feel free to take some of the food. I'll lock the door, so you'll have to Apparate out."

The door slammed a second later leaving Ginny standing alone in Hermione's flat again. She really didn't want to wait to tell Hermione what she'd found out. Hermione, however, didn't appear the least bit interested. A quick look into the kitchen explained everything. A bowl of soup sat on the table next to a cup of tea. Both of them were still steaming.

Hermione hadn't needed to return to the Ministry. She was looking for some way to avoid talking about Charlie. That could only mean that she knew there was more than she'd already shared. How much more did she know? Why wouldn't she tell her? Ginny took a sip of the tea and walked back into the main room. If Hermione wouldn't share anything with her, perhaps there were others who might be able to help. She closed her eyes, and Disapparated.

The crushing, squeezing sensation ended a second later, but without the reassuring feeling of anything firm under her feet. That observation was quickly confirmed by the feeling of something painfully firm slamming into her back. She coughed and gasped for breath as she struggled back to her feet. A small crowd had gathered around her, and a few of the younger wizards rushed forward to help her stand.

"Are you alright?" one of them asked in a friendly voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ginny replied. In front of her was the front door to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. A silver plaque on the door stated very clearly that the shop was currently closed. "I don't know what happened. I was just trying to Apparate into—"

"Hmph! Apparation!" huffed an old witch nearby. "Witches and wizards these days barely know how. They think they can listen to some stuffy Ministry official for a couple hours and know how to Apparate to Arabia. Foolishness. Why, when I learned I spent hours..." Her voice trailed off as she turned and walked away.

"Wherever you were trying to go, I'd guess it has wards against Apparation," the wizard holding her arm said. "Where exactly would that be?"

"There," Ginny answered, pointing to the second floor of the shop. "They're my brothers."

"Right," he said with a nod, "I suppose I should have guessed that. Well, it doesn't seem they are in the mood for guests. If you want, we can stop by a nice little shop across the street for a bite to eat and you can check back in an hour or so."

Ginny smiled back but shook her head. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll find some way to get up there." The wizard looked disappointed but smiled and waved goodbye to her. Ginny waited for the crowd to disperse before walking to the shop window and peering inside.

No one was in the shop. They were probably in their flat. When no one was looking, she slipped into an alley between the shop and the large brick building next to it. At the end of the alley she found the small alcove which hid the back door to the shop. Ginny waved her wand at it, and a sturdy wooden door appeared. Hoping for luck, she reached for the handle.

It turned. The door was unlocked. She checked the alley for anyone who might have seen her, but saw no one. Without the slightest sound, she slipped into the shop and closed the door behind her.

She was in the shop's stock room. The walls were lined with shelves full of small boxes labeled with names that were mostly familiar to her. One entire wall was stocked with nothing but a variety of cloaks, hats, gloves and robes. There was a door on the opposite wall. It must lead to the rest of the shop. The stairs to the flat would be behind the counter. Ginny began walking toward the door, but before she took her second step, red light flashed from a number of places around the room. It happened too quickly. She tried to dodge them, and she might have succeeded in twisting away from the first one, but the second and third hexes hit her squarely in the chest. The world around her faded away.

Some imperceptible amount of time later, Ginny found herself surrounded by a blurry golden light.

"At least we know it works," a voice said through the ringing in her head.

"Unfortunately, it won't work tonight because we'll have to reset it," another responded.

"Well, we can just remove the doors again."

"And you're going to put them back tomorrow morning, are you?"

Ginny blinked her eyes as the golden light gave way to a clearer image of her surroundings. She was lying on the floor of the stock room, with Fred and George standing over her. Fred had his wand out, but he wasn't paying any attention to her anymore. He was still arguing with George.

"What else are we going to do?"

"We have the cloak," George replied. "They always go for the cloaks. It's not like they'll clean us out in one night."

"What are you two talking about?" Ginny asked groggily.

"Bloody kids," Fred announced a scowl. "We've always had more problems in the summer, but now that Voldemort's gone, it's like everyone's got nothing better to do than break in and see what new stuff they can find in the shop."

"Been getting worse now that Hogwarts sent out the book lists for the next term," George added. "Still, it's only a couple times a week, and they usually run away before they get a chance to take much."

"Little bastards are getting smart about it, though," Fred growled. "They started using the stuff we sell to break in. And once they're in, they take the shield cloaks to protect them from any of our, er..."

"—Security measures—"

"—Right, our security measures."

"Your security measures fired three Stunners at me," Ginny said as she carefully stood up.

"Er... Actually, it was more like six, but we think only the first three hit you."

"I dodged one," she said flatly.

"Right, well the next three hit you, then. You probably fell before the last two could get you," Fred explained as if this was supposed to make Ginny feel better. Instead, she scowled at him. "It's not our fault," he said defensively. "You _were_ breaking into the shop, and well—"

"Most of the time we're dealing with multiple burglars," George finished. "It's no good if we only stun one or two of them."

Ginny was beginning to feel a little dizzy and looked around for someplace to sit back down. Not far from her was a large padded chair with a dark brown cloak draped across the seat. She stepped over to it and reached for the cloak.

"STOP!" George shouted. "Don't touch that! It's, er... It's cursed."

"It's cursed?"

"Like we said, the gits take the shield cloaks and use them. So we cursed a few of them." George explained.

"It's really quite nasty," Fred said with an evil smirk. "Once you finally do wake up, you'll really wish you hadn't."

"How do you know this one's cursed? It looks like all the rest of them."

"Not if you know what to look for," Fred said as he slipped a pair of heavy gloves over his hands. He gingerly picked up the cloak. "See here? The gold trim gives it away. We'd never make something that poncy." He laid it down on a nearby table, and motioned for Ginny to sit in the chair. Hesitantly, she did.

"We set them about at night. If they little buggers keep away from them, there's no harm."

"That's wonderful for you," Ginny replied, "but how exactly am I supposed to visit you two, if you've filled the place with wards and traps?"

"Er... well, you could probably start by telling us that you're coming," Fred answered.

"You haven't visited us in months," George continued. "We've barely seen you since— Well, we haven't seen you in about two months."

Ginny frowned and looked at them. "That's actually what I came here to talk about." Fred and George exchanged glances.

"Alright then, what have you got?"

A sense of paranoia swept over her. Hermione had told her that it was dangerous to simply ask about the subject. If they were able to give her any more understanding, they too would be in whatever danger she might be in. Of course, if they knew nothing, they would know as much as she did, and that might be enough to endanger them. Still, she'd get nowhere without some amount of risk. The curious looks in their eyes chased away any doubts.

"I think Charlie got himself mixed up in something dangerous."

"I thought that was blindingly obvious," remarked Fred.

"No," Ginny said in frustration, "Before he came to the Ministry."

George still looked confused. "Something _more_ dangerous than raising dragons, then?"

"Have you read the back page of today's _Daily Prophet_?"

"'Course we haven't!" Fred declared. "We're busy shopkeepers now. We don't have time to sit around reading every silly publication the owls drop off."

Ginny ignored the comment and sent George to fetch a copy. When he returned, she directed them to the article she'd seen earlier. They read it silently. When they had both finished, George tossed it aside and gave Ginny a thoughtful look.

"It's the dragons, is it?" he asked. "You think he had some connection to that?"

"He had to, didn't he?" Ginny countered. "How many of those camps can there be in Romania?"

Fred was shaking his head. "I don't get it. You're right, he must have known about the dragons, but what does that have to do with Quidditch or the Death Eater attack on the Ministry?"

"I don't know," Ginny replied. "I can't believe it's just a coincidence. The dragons he's supposed to be tending break loose but he doesn't tell anyone about it, and a month later he's at the Ministry stopping an attack that no one else knew about."

Fred paced along a set of shelves containing an assortment of brightly colored boxes. "Two completely different events. The only thing connecting them is Charlie."

"Wait," Ginny said as she stood up. "That's it, isn't it? He isn't the only thing they share, of course, but he's the most important thing. Somehow he was in a place to know about both of them. The first one is easy. He couldn't help but hear about the dragons, but what if he learned about them both at the same time?"

In her mind, Ginny replayed her memory of the Spectrecorder. There had been something strange about how Charlie had spoken to the thief. She'd ignored it at the time. There had been a certain amount of compassion and concern in his voice. He'd been bargaining with the thief, not simply demanding him to give up.

The conclusion was obvious. "He knew him," she said aloud.

"Knew who?"

"The, er... the wizard who he learned about the attack from," Ginny answered. "It was someone he knew. Maybe one of the wizards he worked with."

George frowned. "The Death Eaters were always secretive about everything they did. If he heard about the attack from another wizard, they must have been a Death Eater themselves."

Was the thief a Death Eater? Hadn't he attacked the Death Eaters? Hadn't they been trying to stop him? It didn't seem to make sense, yet it made as much sense as anything else. "Alright, then why do the Death Eaters want to prevent Romania from hosting the Quidditch World Cup?" she asked.

"Who said they did?" Fred replied as he tossed the rolled up _Prophet_ at her. "Read it again. The new pitch was built on the site of the dragon attack. Whoever let the dragons loose did it before all this Quidditch business."

George was nodding as if it had been his idea. "I'd say they want something—"

"—or someone—" Fred added.

"—inside the Romanian Ministry. They're just using the World Cup as a distraction. See how all the attacks are linked with the Ministry, not really the World Cup?"

Ginny frowned. "I guess that makes sense, but it doesn't really help me at all. I've got even less information than before. I've still got nothing."

"Well, there are only two people that I can think of who might be willing to help you change that."

"Only two? Who would they be?"

"The Romanian Minister for one." Fred said with a smile. "If he's anything like Scrimgeour, he'll know what's been going on in his own country. If only you knew someone inside the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

Ginny glared at him. "I'm an assistant. I sit around reading books all day. There's no way I'll get a meeting with the Romanian Minister. The best I could hope for would be babysitting a bunch of stuffy delegate members if they felt like watching some Quidditch match." She rolled her eyes. "Who's my other option? The new Head of the International Confederation of Wizards?"

"Hermione Granger," Fred said with a smile. "The Department of Mysteries studies everything. They hear all sorts of things that no one else ever talks about. You just have to get her to talk about them."

"I tried," Ginny said dejectedly. "She even told me that she'd help. That's why I came here. When I tried to talk to her about this, she ran away."

Fred feigned offense. "Well, I see where we stand now," he said in a wounded voice.

"You just have to ask her in a different voice," George suggested.

"And what does that mean? You think she'd talk to me if talked like a child?"

"I was thinking of something a little deeper," George told her. "Something more like Ron's voice."


	5. Calculated Risks

Chapter 5

Calculated Risks

Ginny paced impatiently between the gate and a nearby booth. The vendor inside that booth had long ago stopped trying to sell her his improved Omnioculars (he claimed they could see through both fog and rain). She paused by the gate again and looked at her watch. The French delegation was late.

Maybe they had heard how uninteresting the match was expected to be. The Tornadoes led the league, and the Cannons were locked in a vicious battle with the Puddlemere United for last place. Of course, Puddlemere had recently lost half of its team due to a number of retiring players and an unfortunate accident involving a miscast charm and a pair of chickens.

Ginny tried to force her concentration back to the stream of people making their way through the gates and toward the stands around the pitch. Many of them were staring at her as they passed. Some were laughing. "That's his sister, isn't it?" she heard them whispering. "They're that bad, are they? They can't even get tickets for their families?"

Ginny ignored the comments and stares and searched the crowd again. There wasn't much time left. As one group passed by her, a familiar voice called out. "What's the matter, Miss? Haven't found a ticket to the match yet?" Ginny looked over her shoulder to find the source of the voice, and found the dark-bearded wizard from the Leaky Cauldron looking at her with a kindly smile. "There's an open seat in our box. I'd let you join us if you'd accompany me back to the Cauldron for a game or two of chess."

"Thank you, but I'm afraid I'm already waiting for someone," she replied with equal kindness.

"Of course you are," he replied with a smile and what sounded like pity. "Well, if they don't show up, ask the guards to send for Rupert Whitherwind, and I'll see that you get in."

Ginny turned away from him and rolled her eyes. Even more people were staring at her now. She decided to walk away from the gate. The French delegates would not Apparate there, and she was more eager than ever to find them. She walked a ways down the queue until it thinned out into emptiness. Not finding them, she turned and followed the line back toward the gate. As she approached, she saw a small clump of people who had been hidden from her sight before. Shaking her head in annoyance, she strode toward them.

"Hello. Are you the Site Selection delegates from France?" she asked as diplomatically as she could manage. A wizard who'd been speaking with the others stopped talking and turned to face her. It was Henri D'Anneau. He looked just like he had in the photo, including the slight feeling of arrogance.

"Why, yes, we are," he said with a bright smile. "We're here to meet with the Tutshill Tornados after the match, and I'm afraid that right now we are waiting for a representative from your Ministry." His smile broke for an instant to reveal a pang of distaste. "Of course, given our past dealings, it should not surprise me that they sent someone who cannot even find a Quidditch pitch in their own country. Perhaps you could keep us company while we wait like beggars at the gate?"

Ginny felt her cheeks coloring as she held out her hand to greet him. "I'm Ginevra Weasley. Cordelia Reading sent me to meet with you. I've been looking for you for some time, but I couldn't see you behind these trees."

The smile on D'Anneau's face broke for an instant, then slowly returned. "Madame Reading sent you, did she?" he said with a little laugh. The two wizards behind him smiled but said nothing. They were noticeably older, yet not as old as her father. The two witches reactions were quite different. The older witch, who looked somewhat like Madam Pince, huffed and shook her head. The other, a much younger and more attractive blonde witch, simply stared at him as if she were trying to ignore the fact that anyone else was even there.

It made Ginny feel a little awkward, as if she were the punch line to some joke they'd told before she arrived. D'Anneau noticed, and reached out to pat her shoulder sympathetically. "I'm terribly sorry," he apologized. "You must understand. We've received very little accommodation from your Ministry for reasons I simply cannot understand. I expected them to do very little to make our visit pleasant. Our last escort was an old crone who had been mostly blind since before I was born." He laughed again and motioned toward the gate. "But that was Monsieur Harrington's work. I see that Madame Reading has a much better grasp on things. Shall we enter? I'm eager to see what seats have been arranged for us."

Ginny said little more and led them to the front of the line as she'd been instructed to do. The wizards there gave her suspicious looks, but found the Ministry orders signed by Mrs. Reading to be more than convincing. Ginny led the delegates along the path to the pitch, found the tower their seats were in and began walking up the steps.

"You said your name was Weasley?" D'Anneau asked as they climbed.

"That's right," Ginny answered.

"And your brother, he is... Ronald Weasley?"

"Yes," she replied, "but this is just his second year after leaving Hogwarts, and to be honest, he doesn't get much help from the rest of his team."

D'Anneau paused, and looked back at her. "But of course! If he is your brother, then you were Potter's—" His voice cut off sharply and he turned and continued climbing the stairs.

"I'm sorry. What were you saying?" she prompted.

"Oh, pardon me," he said sincerely. "It is not a matter we should speak of, not here at least. I beg your forgiveness. I was not thinking."

Moments later the six of them filed into a private box at the top of one of the stands. Ginny begrudgingly admitted that the information Evelyn had given her would indeed be helpful. The two wizards seemed to share whatever mood D'Anneau was in, though with lesser intensity. The older witch seemed perpetually annoyed, and the younger witch silently sat and watched the world around her. Only D'Anneau seemed to address her directly. The others would only comment or react to things the two of them said.

Ginny had honestly hoped that she wouldn't be forced to speak with them much at all, but the match was going just about as everyone had expected. It wasn't the first of Ron's matches that she'd seen, but somehow it felt worse having the French delegates sitting next to her and discussing it. Ron truly wasn't bad, and he performed at least as well as he had his sixth year at Hogwarts. Still, there was only so much a team could ask of its Keeper, and the Cannons were asking quite a lot. After only a short time, the outcome was obvious. It was only a matter of time before the Tornados' Seeker would break free and capture the Snitch.

This was just as apparent to the delegates, and Ginny found them quickly losing interest. With a little encouragement, she was able to get them to speak to her. They asked her about her brother, about the other teams, and eventually about anything she'd heard about the upcoming World Cup. When D'Anneau heard she had been told very little about the problems with the site selection, he smiled at the other delegates. "I should have known!" he laughed. "She is the perfect attendant! She knows everything we might ask about Quidditch, and nothing about our business here."

Ginny attempted to protest, but he silenced her. "No, no. I meant no insult. I mean only that you have not been given any information which you would be wrong to share with us. I did not honestly expect it any other way. However, neither did I expect your Ministry to provide us with such charming and entertaining company. Perhaps the day will not be a complete loss."

"Why would it be?" Ginny asked with honest surprise. "You haven't even met with the Tornados yet."

D'Anneau and a few of his companions smiled. "You truly do not know the mess the Committee has created, do you? He paused to give her a look of pity. "Such a tangled mess into which to jump. Or to be dragged." His attention was pulled back to the match as the Cannons scored a rare goal. "The meeting with the Tornados will be as fruitless as our talks with your Minister. Both have neither the interest in the delegates' decisions nor the power to influence them. We are here only as a favor to friends."

"Which friends?" Ginny asked, hoping that her conversational tone would hide her desire to return with some new information.

Her attempts were apparently transparent. D'Anneau gave her a shrewd smile. "The Romanian delegates," he answered finally. Behind her, Ginny heard the pair of wizards whispering to each other in French. "They are filled with an unquenchable optimism," D'Anneau continued. "Though their hopes were dashed this year, they support us and believe that we may still convince others. I fear there is no one left to convince. It will not matter for them, though. Even with our support, the World Cup will not be held on their new pitch in the foreseeable future. A shame, to be certain."

Pleased that she had found a topic he was willing to talk about, Ginny ignored the annoyed looks from the elderly witch on the other side of him, and pressed him for more information. "So you've seen the new pitch, then?"

"No, none of the delegates have," he said distractedly as he watched the Tornados' Seeker zipping past their box. "Everyone has seen the photos, and the Romanians claim to have seen it, of course, but no one else. Some believe it doesn't even exist."

"Why not?"

"The very idea is preposterous," he replied as if were obvious. "Constructing a permanent pitch for a World Cup match a year in the future? No one has visited the French site or the Bulgarian site, but that is simply because there is nothing to see. The building of the Romanian site was done only to make the other delegates take them seriously. It almost worked—"

"Tarus is a fool," the old witch interrupted. "The cost of maintaining it—"

"He's no fool," D'Anneau shot back immediately. Ginny detected a hint of anger in his voice. There was something important in the expression on his face, but it disappeared an instant later. "He's is desperate, not foolish," he said in a calmer voice. "He needs aid. The World Cup would have given him that." Ginny looked about the box. The delegates were quiet, and every one of them were watching the conversation intently.

"Who is Tarus?" she asked gently, not wishing to annoy him with such a simple question.

His reaction, however, showed no annoyance at all. Instead, he seemed almost pleased she had asked. "Grigore Tarus is the Romanian Minister. He's a frightfully wise old warlock who has been forced to lead his people through very difficult times. He is said to be more wise than even the great Albus Dumbledore, though not so skilled in the use of magic. Unfortunately, wisdom alone cannot repel attacks."

The Romanian Minister. He would know what had happened to Charlie. The very thought froze Ginny's mind. He would know. In a flash, she realized that she was staring at Henri D'Anneau. His smile let her know that he had noticed, though she doubted he could have guessed what she'd been thinking. She mastered her anxiety and pressed on, hoping for still more information.

"You've met him, then? The Romanian Minister?" she asked in a voice that trembled only slightly. "Is he, er... friendly?"

D'Anneau's smile broadened. "I have met him, though I would not call him friendly," he said. "Tarus is a haunted wizard, and the world hangs heavy on his shoulders. He has led wisely, but I am told he is faced with powerful enemies. The wizards of Romania are an old breed, and it is said that he has awoken a powerful foe among them."

"The Death Eaters?" Ginny suggested.

"No, they are neither powerful nor new to him. Romania is full of disorganized bands of dark wizards. One more would barely be worth his notice," he explained. "No, there is something darker and more sinister at work."

"Was that what caused the dragon attack?" she asked, perhaps too boldly.

D'Anneau sat back in his chair and stared at Ginny. "I must apologize. I have greatly underestimated you. I had thought the Ministry sent us a hollow candy in a pretty wrapper, but behold, the sweet was filled with an intoxicating liqueur. We have turned from simple talk of Quidditch to sensitive political matters into which I have special insight." He leaned closer to her and stared into her eyes.

"You are far more clever than your position requires, Ginny Weasley. I am clever as well, and I see in your eyes the desire for more than you would ask. I can give that to you. There is much that we might... share in time. After the match, you will return to your Ministry to report all that you have heard, yes?" Ginny nodded slowly, feeling suddenly as if the world had turned on its head.

"When you leave, return to the Leaky Cauldron. You are familiar with it, are you not?" He didn't wait for a response before continuing. "We will be staying there for just one night. Come to my room and learn what I might be able to accomplish for you."

The fiery intensity behind his eyes made Ginny recoil in caution. "Why your room?" she asked reluctantly. "Why not some other place? The bar is just as private."

"Oh, it's not as private as you would hope," he replied smoothly. "There are those about who might be interested in things much more dangerous than listening to conversations or stealing wands." Ginny's body tensed immediately. He knew about the Ministry. The theft had never been reported. It had always been called an attack. If he know about that, he must know about Charlie.

He smiled wider and leaned in closer, until he was whispering in her ear. "If you desire information, I can get it for you. If you desire power, I can show you where to find it. If you desire to speak with someone, I can arrange it. If you desire revenge, I can help you get it."

Ginny could feel her heart pounding in her chest. This was what she'd been looking for. He knew what happened to Charlie. He knew more about it than she knew to ask. The only problem was the cost of his assistance. It was obvious what the price would be.

D'Anneau leaned back into his seat and flashed a friendly smile at her. "Come now, I insist. It is the least that France can do for your exceptionally warm hospitality." His voice was muffled by the rush of blood in her ears. Her head swam and she felt dizzy. He could give her everything she wanted. "There's nothing to worry about," he continued. "Sabine will be there the whole time, won't you dear?"

Ginny turned and saw the silent, blonde-haired witch staring at D'Anneau. Her expression was cold and indifferent. Then she turned to look at Ginny. Their eyes met and a moment later, Sabine's expression melted into one of embarrassment and veiled revulsion. Ginny felt the world snap back into focus around her. There must be another way. She looked back at D'Anneau, trying to hide her own disgust.

"Seven o' clock, then?" he asked cheerily. He stared at her, waiting for an answer.

Before she could answer, the crowd around the pitch erupted into thunderous applause and cheers. Ginny's head spun to the scoreboard instinctively. The Tornados had beaten the Cannons by two-hundred and eighty points. When she turned back, Henri D'Anneau was still waiting. Still watching him, she stood up and walked to one end of the box.

"That was a fine match, shall we go down to meet the team now?"

D'Anneau said nothing, but simply sat staring at her, as if he was unsure of how to take that announcement. Ginny stood stonily by the door, waiting with equal stubbornness for them to start down the stairs. The pair of wizards gave each other a surprised look, then slowly stood and made their way to the stairs. D'Anneau followed them. The elderly witch was next with a satisfied smile on her face. The blonde-witch, Sabine, was last. She said nothing and made a point to not let her eyes meet Ginny's again.

At the foot of the stairs the delegates were assembled and silently waiting for Ginny to join them. She led them to the match official, who introduced himself formally and bowed to Ginny as he led them off toward the Tornados' locker rooms. Taking advantage of her errand, she walked over to where Ron stood under the goal hoops struggling to unfasten one of his arm guards. He gave her a tired nod as she approached and started tugging harder at the last strap.

"Problems?"

"One of those saves at the start smashed the buckle," he explained. "Bloody thing won't open, but won't break properly either."

"Here, let me try," Ginny offered.

"Right, that'd be brilliant," he said as he jumped away from her. "As if the jokes aren't bad enough now, I can only imagine what it'd be like if everyone knew that I needed help from a witch to get my equipment off. If you weren't my sister, I could at least claim I was doing it to try and get your robes off."

Ginny scowled at him and pulled her wand out. A second later, the buckle ripped into four pieces with a piercing, metallic snap.

"Hey!" he shouted as the guard flopped onto the ground. "You can't just fix these with just a little wave of the wand. You better be willing to pay to repair that!"

"How about I promise not to tell Hermione about your comment about getting witches out of their robes and we'll call it even?"

Ron obviously didn't feel he really got anything out of the trade, but nodded his acceptance anyway. Whatever injuries he'd had to his head weren't nearly serious enough to convince him that it might be a good idea to let Hermione hear what he'd said. He picked up the guard and looked about the pitch for a moment before returning to Ginny.

"They sent you with D'Anneau, did they?" he asked with a frown.

"Yes," she replied. "You know him?"

"Heard of him," he said with a nod. "Why do you think they sent you to meet with him?"

"Because it's my job?" Ginny offered. Ron shot a disbelieving glance at her. She frowned. "You're right. He probably requested it."

"Feels a bit odd, doesn't it?"

"Odd?" Ginny exclaimed. "I think I could come up with better words than that."

"No, not that. Isn't it odd that they were willing to try and please him?"

Ginny stopped. "Is it?"

Ron turned around, looking quite confused. "Yes, it really is. The last time he was here, they refused to let him in the Ministry and gave him some blind old witch as a guide. The Department of Magical Games and Sports said they'd never allow him into another match. You mean you didn't know all that?"

"How could I?" Ginny responded testily. "I've only worked in the Department for a week. I didn't even know what they were delegates to until Friday!"

"You didn't— You mean you just took—" Ron rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell. Hermione was right. You don't know about any of it? About the goblins and the donations and odd requests?" Ginny shook her head and Ron dropped his. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her over toward the center of the pitch.

"Will!" he shouted at a wizard about twenty feet away. "I'll take the chest back." The wizard nodded and Ron gestured for Ginny to pick up one end of the chest which contained the balls used for matches. "Come on, we can talk in the equipment room."

He silently guided her back to the large building which housed the locker rooms, equipment rooms and a small bar. They followed the crowd to the building and Ron waved at a pair of wizards standing in front of a large wooden door. They nodded in return and pulled the door open. Once inside the door, they set the chest down and Ron shoved it roughly into the corner.

"First the job, and now this? You have no idea what you got yourself into, do you?"

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked. Hermione had been very clear that asking questions about Charlie would be dangerous. Perhaps wizards like Henri D'Anneau were the reason why. "If you're talking about D'Anneau, I can handle him, Ron."

"I _am_ talking about D'Anneau, but I don't think you understand what's going on," Ron replied. "Did you know that he requested this meeting last Friday?"

"Well, he does seem to be the sort who'd keep an eye on new opportunities, doesn't he?"

Ron wasn't laughing. "He requested it Friday _morning_. He couldn't have known that you would be the one they hired."

"Well, it wasn't like there were many other candidates," Ginny countered. "It doesn't take much to see that."

"Yes, but how did he know that your appointment had been moved up, that it even needed to be, or that someone would be chosen that day?"

Ginny stopped and looked at Ron. It was obvious that he'd been told much more than she had. The door was heavy and it was closed tight. Ron had taken her here to speak with her. Perhaps it was time he did just that. "Alright, Ron, why don't you tell me what I'm missing."

Ron started speaking quickly, perhaps for a good reason. The guards outside would start getting suspicious if they stayed there too long. She tried to catch everything that he said and only stopped him to ask questions when she was hopelessly lost.

From what he'd heard, it had started about three weeks ago. The Site Selection Committee had been forced to delay the final vote based on a number of complaints filed by the German delegation, citing various countries which had not chosen delegates with enough knowledge of Quidditch. One of them had been Britain, despite the fact that only one of the British delegates hadn't played Quidditch competitively.

The World Cup Committee ordered Britain to hire an aide to the delegates who would not vote, but could explain the arguments to them. At the time, the Department of International Magical Cooperation had just received a budget increase to cover a new employee, so it was decided that they should seek someone with a background in Quidditch to comply with the Committee's requirements.

Only a few days later, the goblins at Gringott's posted a large donation and a complaint to the Ministry demanding that the Department of International Magical Cooperation should hire someone who would remain in Britain and accommodate international visitors. Of course, if their demands weren't met, they would withdraw their support of the league play in Britain.

Well, the Ministry couldn't have that, so the Department changed its plans and decided to send a representative from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. The next day, however, the French delegation requested that the Ministry send Mrs. Reading and an assistant to meet with the French Minister a week from today. To complicate matters further, a day later the Bulgarians requested a meeting in Britain the on the very same day as the French meeting with anyone in Ginny's Department who understood Quidditch.

The Ministry had been forced to deny both requests to avoid the appearance of favoritism. Nothing more happened until the day before Ginny's appointment. Someone had suddenly convinced the World Cup Committee to demand that the Department of International Magical Cooperation formally declare all staff who might interact with the delegates. Any staff changes would result in the disqualification of the British delegates. They had to comply by the end of that Friday.

And if that wasn't strange enough, rumors said that only hours later, the goblins walked into the Ministry itself, demanding that the wizard promised to them be hired by noon the next day. The next morning, before Ginny spoke with Harrington and Mrs. Reading, the French delegation had already scheduled its visit.

Ginny struggled to understand the meaning of all of it. It explained why her appointment had been moved up. It even explained some of Harrington's comments that morning. He'd mentioned the goblins and they seemed to be helping the Bulgarians. The Romanians would be helping the French. It also explained his mood. All those demands would be enough to harass anyone. However, there still didn't seem to be any point to all of it. It was as if the two factions had been hoping to use her position as a way to gain some advantage, but she couldn't see how she was supposed to accomplish that.

"I don't think anyone really knows what they had planned," Ron told her. "I'd have to guess that one or both of the groups of delegates thought they could secure a close ally inside the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"I think D'Anneau was here to do just that," Ginny replied. It made sense, in a bizarre way. Both the French and the Bulgarians would have to try and thwart any advantage the other attempted to gain. Why the Department of International Magical Cooperation? What had they been trying to gain? What _had_ she gotten herself into? "Does this mean I should expect a meeting with the Bulgarians soon?" she asked.

"It would seem to follow, wouldn't it?" Ron answered flatly.

Ginny frowned and realized she didn't have much choice. How bad could it be? The final vote was only weeks away. After that she could forget all of this.

"Come on, we should go before they lock us in," Ron said as he walked to the door.

Ginny followed him. Something was still troubling her. D'Anneau knew about Charlie. It was easy to see why he was here, but why had he brought that up? Was it just another token to bargain with? Why had he tried to use that to get to her?

Ron pushed the doors open and waited for Ginny to follow. Still deep in thought, she stepped back out into the summer afternoon. She was distracted and tense, and when the doors locked behind her with a metallic _snap_ she jumped, letting out a short, piercing scream. Seemingly everyone in the passing crowd turned to stare at her. Some of them, including Ron, were even laughing.

Any other time, she might have tried to hide her face before it became hideously red. This time was different. She couldn't feel anything at all. She was numb, as if the world around her had gone instantly cold. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, unable to focus on anything else.

Buried in the crowd, not thirty feet away, was a wizard in dark brown robes. He was pale, with tangled black hair that hung down over his forehead. A pair of glasses obscured most of his eyes, but there was little doubt that he was looking directly back at her.

"How..." she finally gasped after realizing she'd forgotten to breathe. "Ron?"

Ron stopped and turned back to her. Upon seeing her expression, he searched the crowd for whatever it was she had spotted. A moment later, his eyes found what had captured Ginny's attention.

It wasn't the first time Ginny had seen something like this. She used to see Harry all the time. A week after he disappeared, she'd swore he'd walked into the kitchen at the Burrow and started a conversation with her. Her mother had walked in a minute later, finding Ginny talking to nothing at all. As time wore on, she saw him less and less. Crowds were still bad, though. She had avoided Diagon Alley for weeks after leaving Hogwarts. Everywhere she turned, she would see his face, and dash after him, only to find that it was only some wizard who shared only a passing resemblance. The more stress she was under, the more it would happen, and the more likely he was to simply vanish.

"Ron, can you see him?" she asked. "It's not just me, is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ron said flatly.

Ginny stepped close to Ron. He was looking at her again, but there was an odd expression on his face. "The wizard," she hissed. "The one standing by the corner?"

When she looked again, the wizard was gone. For a moment she thought it had simply been her imagination again. It had been a hard day, and she hadn't slept well that night. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark haired wizard in brown robes walking quickly against the crowd and back toward the pitch.

All thoughts of Charlie, Quidditch, her job, and Henri D'Anneau fled from her mind. It wasn't her imagination. Her fantasies never ran from her. She took a single step before stopping herself. It was probably just another black-haired wizard. Hermione was right. She couldn't go chasing every shadow that reminded her of Harry. It was no way to live. She should turn and walk away. Following him would only lead her to disappointment, and yet, she found herself already dodging between groups as she chased after him.

"Ginny! Don't do it!" Ron shouted.

Ginny ignored him. The wizard was only a little farther, but he was walking toward a large clump of spectators who were huddled together, probably trying to get autographs from one of the many international players who had been showing up at the Tornados' matches. She darted out of the crowd and ran as quickly as she could, hoping to get ahead of the wizard.

She caught one last glimpse of him as he squeezed into the crowd of people waving photos and small books at a wizard in bright green robes. Ginny recognized him as one of the Bulgarian Chasers. She circled around the knot of people, trying to spot the mop of black hair that would reveal his position, but she couldn't see it.

"Enough, enough!" the Bulgarian shouted over his fans. "I must go!"

Obediently, the crowd relaxed and spread out, slowly flowing toward the small trickle of people headed back to the gate. Ginny ran toward them, weaving among the witches and wizards as they walked back toward the gate. He had to be there, Ginny told herself. She'd seen him. He'd seen her. He was real.

As the last of them milled about on the path, Ginny collapsed onto the ground. She closed her eyes and focused on taking deep breaths. She couldn't tell if she wanted to cry or scream or just destroy something. Ron walked over to her and gently helped her to her feet.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I— I was so certain. I thought I saw—"

"Don't say it, Ginny," Ron snapped

She stared at her brother through narrowed eyes. "Don't say what? What was I going to say?"

"It wasn't him," Ron answered pointedly. "It was someone else."

"You saw him too!" Ginny exclaimed.

"No, Ginny, I saw someone else. It was probably the bloke who's dating the Tornados' Keeper," Ron explained, though to Ginny it didn't sound like he believed it either. "Everyone keeps making jokes about how much he looks like... Well, you saw him. It was a bit uncanny wasn't it?"

"I know what I saw Ron," Ginny replied sharply. "You know it, too."

Ron blinked as if Ginny had threatened him. "Do I, really? What exactly do I know?" he countered. "I know who it might have looked like. I know that person disappeared a year ago leaving only one explanation for what happened to him. After twelve months of searching every pub, inn, and wizarding settlement in Britain, I know that it isn't because he's just trying to avoid nosy journalists. I want him to be alive just as much as you do, but if he is, I know there must be some reason why we don't know about it." He stepped closer and stared into Ginny's eyes. "So tell me, what else do I know?"

"I can't just ignore it, Ron," Ginny replied. "I can't give up. Not yet."

"Of course you can't," he told her. "I'd expect the same of Hermione. In fact, I think she's been looking for him just as hard as either of us. However, I still know something you apparently haven't had the sense to take notice of."

"What's that, then?" Ginny asked in an annoyed tone.

"I know that those two have been following you since the moment you came down out of the stands." Ron nodded toward the path leading to the gate. A pair of wizards were standing against one of the towers wearing black cloaks with loose hoods. Now that the crowds were mostly gone, they were more conspicuous. "They followed us to the equipment room, and were waiting for us when we left. It's a little warm out for a full cloak and hood, don't you think?"

The two wizards were now looking directly at them. Trying to hide would be pointless. There was only one way off the grounds, and they knew they were standing by it. Ginny took a moment to study them. Their cloaks were black, but they didn't seem to be Death Eaters. These days they rarely attacked in the daylight. The Ministry had been something quite out of the ordinary for them. They weren't wearing the same grey cloaks as the wizards from the Ministry, but there was no reason to discount the possibility they were the same wizards.

"How do we know they don't just want to talk with us?" Ginny whispered.

"If they wanted to talk, they'd be over here, wouldn't they?" Ron hissed in response. "Whatever it is they want, you'd probably rather not find out. Come on," he said as he pulled her toward them. "They can't attack you here, not with all the wards in place. They'll wait until you pass the gate."

They joined the dwindling stream of people coming from the cheapest seats in the stands. "Hold on. Why me?" Ginny whispered as they neared the cloaked wizards. "Why won't they attack you?"

"I'm just the Keeper for the Chudley Cannons," Ron replied quietly. "You're the one who works for the Ministry. You were hired to fill a position that everyone in Europe seems to be interested in. You just spent the afternoon flirting with Henri D'Anneau, and you were the one who jumped at their bait."

He was right. Ginny cursed herself. Whoever they were, she'd done just what they expected her to do, and now their job would be much simpler. As they walked down the path, their pace gradually increased until they were slipping between groups of wizards and quickly making their way toward the gate. A quick check behind her let Ginny know that they were still being followed. As they passed the last building between them and the exit, a third cloaked wizard appeared.

Unlike the other two, he was not moving. Instead, he was simply standing in the middle of the path, waiting for them to approach. They would never get out without the three of them being right on top of them.

"When I tell you, do exactly as I say," Ron whispered. "The Apparation wards extend out to the large oak tree beyond the gate. Go back to the Ministry, but don't tell _anyone_ what happened here. Not yet." Ginny barely had any time to respond before Ron had strode ahead of her. He turned for an instant, and growled a single word:

"Run."

Ginny hesitated, unsure of just what Ron had planned. He was making no move to lead or follow her. He didn't seem to be doing anything other than scowling at her.

"RUN!" he shouted.

Ginny closed her eyes and shot forward with all the speed she had. She was nearing the cloaked wizard, and Ron still hadn't done anything. A moment of panic struck her and she considered turning and running the other direction. Just as she broke stride, Ron's voice rang out over the crowd.

"Look! In the black cloak! It's Viktor Krum!"

The effect was nearly instantaneous. Just as Ginny passed the cloaked wizard, a throng of witches and wizards were rushing toward him. He tried pushing and shoving his way through them but it simply wasn't possible for him to keep up with her. She ducked between clumps of wizards standing and watching the mayhem behind her, and finally sprinted through the gate. Taking a moment to look behind her, she realized that the other two wizards were still running after her.

"Need a little help?" Ginny spun around to find Henri D'Anneau standing in front of her with his wand drawn. "If you come with me, I can see that you're safe," he said.

Ginny didn't respond and pushed past him. She just had to make it to the large tree. It would take only a few seconds. She checked behind her as she shoved past D'Anneau. They were at the gate and they were reaching for their wands.

Summoning every bit of strength she had, she sprinted for the tree trying to put as many wizards as she could between her and her pursuers. Her lungs were beginning to burn and she was pretty sure she'd injured her ankle, but she kept running. She was almost at the tree.

Just as she passed it, a pair of red beams shot past her. One of them struck the tree as she passed it. She instinctively ducked and lost her balance. She hit the ground hard and felt rocks cutting into her hands and arms. Searing pain shot across her cheek as a small twig slashed at her face. She twisted and forced her eyes open. They were still coming. She needed to relax and concentrate. Her mind focused on the soft sound of water as it splashed in the fountain at the entrance to the Ministry.

Ginny coughed and gasped for air when she felt the cold stone of the Ministry floor beneath her. She felt a need to stand and not draw attention to herself, but her legs weren't quite cooperating. Slowly, she struggled to her feet and began walking as quickly as she could toward the gate. As she neared it, the security wizard at the desk gave her a strange look. She reached for the cut on her cheek and realized that it was bleeding.

She didn't have time to deal with it right now. She needed to get someplace where no one could follow her. She strode through the gate and headed for the first open lift. When she got to the right floor, she walked out and headed directly for Mrs. Reading's office. To her dismay, Mr. Harrington was already there, looking more annoyed than usual.

"Good afternoon, Miss Weasley," he said stiffly. "I suppose that cut is the result of a nasty lift accident?"

"I tripped and fell at the match," Ginny replied quickly. "Someone thought they saw Viktor Krum and it caused a bit of a commotion. I tried to get away from it, but got this instead."

"A clever answer," he remarked. "Not a lie, but nowhere close to the truth. Your friends would like that, wouldn't they?"

Ginny was still recovering from the shock of her sudden escape, and was in no mood to act civil out of some form of professional duty. "You asked a question, and I answered it," she shot back. "Perhaps you could tell me how you know about it already. Is it safe to assume that my report won't be needed?"

"Enough," Mrs. Reading said. "Ferdinand, you need to leave. Ginny, take a seat." Harrington and Ginny glared at each other for a few seconds before he stalked out of the room and Ginny reluctantly took a seat. "You had an eventful first assignment, I hear," Mrs. Reading commented.

"Perhaps," Ginny answered, still a little disoriented and paranoid. "How would you know about it?"

"Harrington said an Auror came to see him. He just told me." She sounded sympathetic and almost apologetic. "He also said you spoke quite a bit with Henri D'Anneau. We can deal with the wizards who chased you later. Right now I want to know what D'Anneau is up to."

Ginny started recounting what she could remember from the matches. She spoke automatically, without putting much thought into what she was saying. Her mind was busy trying to understand what had happened that day. She finished her report and Mrs. Reading excused her and told her to go home and relax.

As Ginny left, a hundred thoughts swam about in her head. D'Anneau had told her more than he'd intended. She felt he'd been sincere about that. But he'd known about Charlie, and he knew about the thief. Why had he connected them with Quidditch? Was the dragon attack really about Quidditch? How could Voldemort's wand be connected? She tried to keep focused on those questions, but there was one that kept resurfacing.

Who had she seen?

It looked like Harry. In truth, it was more than just his appearance. There was a presence about him, some innate quality that she recognized immediately. Could someone have created a trap that elaborate? If it was a trap, what purpose would it serve? It couldn't have been D'Anneau's doing. He didn't even know who he was meeting. They didn't behave like the grey-cloaked wizards either. They were something new, something Harrington seemed to know all too much about.

Ron had been right. She really didn't have any idea what she had gotten herself into.

As she stepped through the gate and into the Entrance Hall, she felt a sudden, overwhelming anxiety sweep over her. All around her, wizards were walking about. The flurry of faces was dizzying. She scanned the room without knowing just what she was looking for. Harry? The grey-cloaked wizards? Someone in black attacking her?

Was this what Charlie had felt? Had he turned to the grey-cloaked wizards for help because he didn't know who his friends were anymore? Ginny wondered who she could turn to. She had planned to go back to the Leaky Cauldron, but now it was the last place she wanted to be. Now, with Harrington and the memory of what had occurred five weeks ago, she even questioned the safety of the Ministry. Would it be safe to go home?

She didn't know what to do. The longer she stood where she was, the more exposed and vulnerable she felt. She started walking toward a less crowded area of the hall. Once on the other side of the fountain, she searched the area again. She didn't recognize anyone. She took a moment to try and relax herself. She'd need to concentrate to Apparate out. She didn't trust the Floo. After a moment, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on the hill near the Burrow.

Just as she was about to Disapparate, a small scuffle broke out behind her. She stopped to look and found a hooded wizard shoving his way toward one of the fireplaces. Another wizard was arguing with him, but it didn't stop him. He stumbled into the flames and spun off in a flash of green flame. A second later, another wizard gave a shout and dashed to the front of another queue, jumping into the flames before an elderly witch carrying a bright pink satchel.

Had it really ended? Was she still being watched and chased now? What would be waiting for her at the Burrow? Paranoia gripped her and she spun about, expecting wizards to jump at her from all directions. She stared back at the gate, wondering if it would be safer for her to simply not leave.

Then it happened again.

It had only been an instant, but for one small moment, there had been a wizard standing by the fountain. He'd vanished the moment she'd seen him, but it had been long enough for her to recognize the black hair and dark brown robes of the wizard from the Quidditch match. He'd Disapparated.

Something was deeply wrong. It had been Harry. She was almost certain. She would have been certain before today, but nothing seemed certain to her anymore.

There was only one place where she felt she could safely go. Nowhere else felt safe, not even the hill overlooking the Burrow. It was also the only place she could go to get answers. Hermione was the only person she could trust now. She would understand what was happening, even if she refused to explain it. Ginny took a few deep breaths and concentrated as much as she could.

A second later, she felt the warmer air of the top floor flat pressing around her, she opened her eyes, but the room was completely dark. Her heart raced. The sun hadn't gone down yet. There should be light coming through the windows. Somewhere behind her, a floorboard creaked faintly. Someone else was in the room. Before she could draw her wand, a voice cut through the heavy air.

"_Stupefy!_"

Before she could react, a red light blazed through the darkness, and the world slipped away from her.


	6. Failed Negotiations

Chapter Six

Failed Negotiations

Ginny awoke to the familiar dizziness and nausea associated with being stunned. She took a moment to worry about just what she would see when her vision cleared. There was a dull ache coming from her left arm and hip, but the pain in her arm was lessening. The room was bright, too bright for her to see anything more than vague shadows in the light. She blinked her eyes and saw the blurry outline of someone leaning over her.

Instinctively, her leg kicked out, striking her captor in the knee. They let out a shriek of pain and fell clumsily to the floor. Ginny took the opportunity to sit up. She ignored the pounding in her head and leaped onto the person on the floor. In a second, she'd taken their wand and now had it pointed at their neck. She blinked her eyes again, trying to get a better look at her prisoner.

"I'm sorry!" shouted a familiar voice. "I— I didn't know it was you."

Ginny blinked again and began to recognize her surroundings. She was still in Hermione's flat, but the shades were up and it was currently bathed in light from the setting sun as well as a number of lamps. Trapped underneath her and wincing in pain was Hermione.

Ginny slowly stood up and handed the wand back to Hermione. Hermione dusted herself off and glared back at Ginny. She limped over to the center of the room and carefully bent over to pick something off the floor. She limped back to Ginny and handed her a wand.

"You dropped that."

"I dropped it when you stunned me!" Ginny exclaimed.

"What do you expect when you just Apparate into my flat?"

"I've done it loads of times," Ginny argued. "I've never been stunned because of it. Why had you pulled all the shades anyway?"

"Why didn't you Apparate to the street and walk up like you normally do?"

Ginny wondered if Hermione meant to imply that the two had a similar cause. She stood in silent thought for a moment. Had Hermione expected her to visit her? Who else had she expected?

"What's going on Hermione? Why are you acting this way?" she asked, then struck upon a more important question. "Is Ron alright?"

"Ron's fine," she answered. "He, er... decided to help finish up at the pitch. He'll be home later tonight." Hermione paused for a moment, looking like she was trying to think of what to say next. "Are you alright, Ginny?"

"I honestly don't know," she answered. "How can I know if I'm safe when I don't even know what I'm running or hiding from? They're out there somewhere, but I don't know why."

"I told you this might—"

"I know, Hermione," Ginny snapped. "But I think this is a bit worse than you expected. I haven't found anything. I haven't even asked anything. They're following me now. They were at the match, and they were waiting for me to leave the Ministry. It must have been something at the match—"

"They were following you when you came to visit me last Friday," Hermione told her. Ginny sat down on the couch and stared back in shock.

"Last Friday... but... I don't understand," she stammered. "Who are they?"

Hermione stared back, looking rather uncomfortable. "Why are you here, Ginny?"

"Are you going to run away if I tell you?"

"Are you here to talk about Charlie?"

"What if I am?" Ginny challenged her. "You said you'd help me."

Hermione collapsed into a nearby chair and leaned forward with her face in her hands. "Right now," she said in an even tone, "_not_ talking to you about Charlie is the most helpful thing I can do for you."

"How can you know that?" Ginny replied emphatically.

"Is that why you're here?" Hermione asked in an almost forceful tone.

"No," answered Ginny.

"Then relax and let me get some tea."

Hermione stood up and walked to her kitchen. Ginny sat and waited, listening to the moving of cups, whistling of the teapot, and the gentle clinking of the spoon as it stirred sugar into her tea. When Hermione returned two minutes later, most of the urgency and anxiety of her day had already disappeared. Hermione walked over to her and handed her a large steaming cup.

"Drink a little of this, then we'll talk." Hermione took her seat nearby and for another minute they simply sat in her living room, silently drinking tea. Finally, Hermione sat her cup down on the table in front of her. "Alright, what did you want to know?"

Ginny took another sip of tea and set her cup on the table as well. If she couldn't talk about Charlie, she'd ask about what was really troubling her.

"You were working on Voldemort's wand when it was stolen, weren't you?"

"Bloody hell, Ginny!" Hermione nearly shouted. "You know I can't talk about that!"

Ginny's face fell. She stood up, but couldn't make herself look at Hermione. "Fine," she growled, "I guess I should go, then."

"Where are you going?"

"To the Leaky Cauldron," Ginny answered. "If you won't talk to me, I know Henri D'Anneau will."

"Are you insane?" Hermione shouted. "You can't do that!" When Ginny made no move to stop, she relented. "Don't go! Sit down, alright. I'll tell you whatever I can," When Ginny was sitting down again, Hermione continued. "Yes, I was working on the wand, but you can't tell that to anyone. If anyone—"

"How did you get it?" Ginny interrupted.

"I don't know, the Department of Mysteries had it before I started working there."

"And you don't know how they got it?"

Hermione was beginning to look more uncomfortable with each question. "The Aurors recovered it. No one ever said anything more about it," she explained stiffly. "I think I hear the words 'We can't tell you' at least once a day. I've asked—"

Ginny didn't wait for the rest of the explanation. There had to be something for her to work with. "Did they recover anything else?"

"Yes, I think so," Hermione replied. "I've only seen the vault once, but... well, I really can't say anything more. Is there something specific you were interested in?"

There wasn't. Ginny discarded the idea, and decided to try something else. "You said you were studying the things Voldemort had done after the Triwizard Tournament. Did you find out anything that happened between him and Harry? Do you know how it ended?"

Hermione's face softened a little. "No, we don't know," she said. "It's impossible to tell what the last spells were. The wand was damaged by whatever happened."

Ginny closed her eyes. She almost didn't want to ask the next question, but she had to. She took a deep breath and tried not to think about what she was asking.

"You're certain Harry's dead, though?"

Hermione was silent for some time. When she finally spoke, her voice was slow and even, as if she were concentrating very hard on speaking.

"Harry's gone, Ginny," she said. "You can't keep living like this. You have to accept it."

She'd done it again. Hermione always did that. "What _exactly_ do I have to accept?" Ginny asked, without any attempt at hiding her annoyance.

"You have to accept that Harry isn't here," Hermione replied sternly. "He isn't following you. He isn't hiding from you, and he isn't trying to contact you."

"I saw him," Ginny announced. "I saw him after the match, and again at the Ministry."

"You only thought you saw him."

"Ron saw him too," Ginny argued.

"That's not what he told me. He said he only saw a wizard who looked like Harry."

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "I know what I saw! You're going to take his word over of mine? Do you think I don't know what Harry's face looks like?"

"I didn't say that—" Hermione interrupted quickly, hoping to avoid an argument.

"Then say it!" Ginny shouted. "Say he's dead! Say he's never coming back!"

"You have to stop, Ginny. Stop looking for him." It sounded more like a warning than friendly advice.

Ginny dodged the comment and pressed harder. "You've never said it, Hermione. You say he's gone and you say that I should move on, but you've never said he's dead and you've never told me that he won't come back. Why won't you say it?"

Hermione leaned forward and buried her face in her hands again, letting her hair hang like a curtain to hide her emotions. "I can't talk to you about this," she said with a muffled voice. "I won't. I—"

"Why won't you say it?" Ginny persisted. "If you tell me he's dead, I'll stop. That's all it takes. Just say that Harry is dead."

Hermione's face jerked up to look at Ginny. Her eyes were red and glassy and her face was flushed. "Please stop this," she pleaded. "Don't make me..."

"No. You said you'd help me."

"I _am_ helping you!" Hermione shouted. In front of her, her teacup shattered, spilling the dark contents across the table. "I told you what would happen if you went looking for answers. I said I'd help you, and right now that means trying to make sure you don't end up like Charlie."

Ginny forced herself to stay focused. She'd never get this opportunity again. "From the start, your only help has been telling me to stop. Don't ask about Charlie. Don't ask questions. Don't ask why. Maybe if we'd asked more questions last year, we'd know what happened to Harry."

Hermione shot out of her seat and glared threateningly at Ginny. "Do you have any idea how close I am to being sacked?" she growled. "I had Voldemort's wand stolen from my office while I was working on it. I had to explain why the Spectrecorder from the day of a major attack on the Ministry disappeared for two hours. I had the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation questioning me about a friend who was applying for the most controversial job opening the Ministry has seen in years, and then my own boss came in to question me about how I had gotten myself wrapped up in it." Hermione took a deep, shaky breath. "If anyone even suspects this conversation took place, I'm through. And now you want me to tell you what I know about Harry?"

The realization hit Ginny suddenly. Ron said that Hermione had been searching for Harry as well. She hadn't stopped. She hadn't given up either. If she couldn't tell Ginny what she knew, it meant there must have been something to tell. There was one simple explanation for all of it.

"My god," she said softly. "You've seen him, haven't you?"

Hermione wiped a tear from her eye, and she collapsed again. "I don't know what I've seen," she said through her hands. "He said he'd return when it was over. If he's still alive, he would have come back. Voldemort is dead. He's destroyed. He can't come back, but Harry should have. It can't be him, can it?" Hermione asked, almost pleading for Ginny to agree with her. "He wouldn't do that to us. He wouldn't do that to you."

"What if he's alive and he needs help?" Ginny asked. "How can you bear not knowing if he's out there?"

Hermione stared back at her, slowly shaking her head. "Ginny, I'm deadly serious. Don't go looking for him. I haven't figured out what is going on, but I've heard some very strange things. Something is happening. I don't know how to even start explaining it, and there are loads of things they don't tell me." Hermione stopped and took a deep breath. "Whatever you think you saw, I don't think it's Harry. If he's out there, that isn't him. Don't go searching for him. Don't ask about him. Don't follow him if you see him."

"What _should_ I do if I see him?"

"Walk away, Ginny. Don't run. Don't call for help. Just walk away like you never saw him. Please promise me you'll do that." The sound of a small bell ringing echoed through the flat. It was followed by a second chime a moment later.

Hermione punched a nearby cushion and swore loudly. She stood up and pulled her hair back from her face. "I, er... I've got to report to the Ministry," she said in a wavering voice. She looked suddenly very frightened and pale. "You know you can stay here as long as you like. I don't know when I'll be back. If... If they know what— Well, promise me you'll remember what I told you, because when I come back, I might not."

"What's happening?" Ginny asked, sensing Hermione's anxiety. "Is everything going to be alright?"

"I don't know," Hermione mumbled. She tied her hair back and walked to the kitchen to splash water on her face. When she returned she looked a little better. "You're right. This is worse than I thought. I don't know what to do. Maybe you were right all along." Hermione straightened her robes and gave a final smile. "I've got to go." A second later, she disappeared.

Ginny slowly walked out the door of the building and into the middle of Diagon Alley. The sun was going down and the street was already bathed in shadows. Light from store fronts and lit lamps created an eerie mixture of warmth and shadow. All about her, witches and wizards were milling about, slipping from shadow to the light and back into shadow.

She felt exposed and vulnerable. A wave of paranoia hit her as a dozen or so wizards passed by, glancing at her as she stood there watching them. Should she hide? Where could she go? How could she hide when she didn't even know who she was supposed to hide from?

Whoever they were, they must have some ties to the Ministry. No one could have known where she'd gone. They must have guessed that she might go to Hermione's flat, and somehow made the Department of Mysteries call her in. However it had been achieved, the purpose seemed obvious enough: They wanted to force her out into the open again.

Was this what Charlie had gone through? Was this why he hadn't spoken with anyone about what he knew? Deep in her stomach, Ginny felt a warmth creeping up toward her chest. Charlie hadn't run. He'd fought back, and died because of it. If she ran, his fight would be for nothing. She had to fight back, but she didn't know how. She didn't even know what was happening.

However, Henri D'Anneau did. She was certain he knew much more than he had told her. Perhaps he was in more control of the conversation than he made it seem. He'd told her just enough to prove the legitimacy of his information, but that could still be useful to her. Somehow it was all related, but none of it made sense. The Death Eaters meant to steal Voldemort's wand, but for what purpose? D'Anneau said that the Romanian Minister had enemies, but they weren't the Death Eaters. Were they the grey-cloaked wizards? Is that how Charlie found them? Why would he trust someone who had unleashed dragons on defenseless towns? How did D'Anneau know about the theft? There were so many questions, but none of them compared to the newest one.

Why had Hermione behaved as if looking for Harry and trying to figure out what happened to Charlie were the same thing?

That thought fueled the fire in her stomach even more. There were answers to all of her questions, she just had to find them. It sounded as if Hermione had some of them, but who knows how many of them she'd remember after the Department of Mysteries was finished. Ginny grimaced to herself. Perhaps she would be next. She just needed something to work with. Some clue about who was following her, or why.

There was one sure source. Henri D'Anneau was almost certainly at the Leaky Cauldron. Though he probably no longer expected her, she knew he wouldn't turn her away. Even if the idea didn't turn her stomach, it would be foolish to return to the Leaky Cauldron. Anyone who'd been following her for more than a few days would have to expect her to return there sooner or later.

That was it.

They would have lost track of her when she went to Hermione's flat. They'd called Hermione away to flush her out, and they would probably keep a close eye on the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for her to return. They wouldn't be able to hide under cloaks there. After a couple years of Death Eater attacks, the patrons had a tendency to act rather aggressively toward wizards who hid their identities. With a little help from the pub's regular occupants, she should be able to get a good look at her hunters. With a little luck, she might even be able to speak with them.

She considered running off that moment, but devised a better plan. Her pursuers would be easier to spot if they were forced to stand out for a while. There were some things she should get before then, anyway. Flourish and Blott's and Madam Maulkin's might still be open, but she hoped to find someplace a little more convenient. With grim determination, she turned and walked fearlessly down the street, away from the Leaky Cauldron and toward Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

She weaved her way through the crowds, forcing herself to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that she was already being watched and followed. As she neared the store, she saw a faint glow coming from the front window. Light from the windows of the flat above confirmed that someone was there, and that was all she needed. If she had to get stunned for the second time that day to get their attention, it would be worth it.

She paused for a moment before approaching the door. She stepped into the shadows and took a moment to search the thinning crowd around her. They were all moving, and none of them seemed to even notice her. Satisfied that she wasn't putting anyone in immediate danger, she walked to the storefront.

A brief look through the front window showed Fred and George sitting at their counter. Fred was counting through stacks of Galleons and Sickles, while George was scratching away at a roll of parchment. Ginny was relieved. She'd been stunned quite enough for one day. She tried the door, but it was shut tightly, and a large sign hung at eye-level.

CLOSED FOR THE NIGHT

Don't even think about knocking.

Ginny ignored it, and rapped on the door sharply. After waiting a few seconds, she stepped away to look through the window again. Neither of them had moved. Ginny frowned, and knocked harder on the door. To her surprise, the writing on the sign disappeared, and a new message scribbled itself across the clean surface.

IT'S NOT THAT WE DON'T HEAR YOU

We just don't want to talk to you.

Ginny scowled at the sign, and pounded on the door until her fist hurt. When she checked the window, there was still no sign of either of them even turning to notice her. The sign had noticed however.

NOT TOO BRIGHT, ARE YOU?

Normally, gits like you leave by now.

Ginny swung her fist at the door and let out a furious scream. When she turned around to rub her aching hand, she found twenty or more wizards staring at her as if she were a raving lunatic. It seemed that more drastic measures would be needed. Giving in to her anger, she drew her wand from her pocket, walked to the door, and pointed her wand directly at the sign.

"_Reduc—_"

Before she could finish the hex, a hand had reached _through_ the door and snatched her wand from her hand. She stood frozen for a moment, dumbfounded and defenseless. As she stared at her empty hand, another arm shot through the door, grabbed her wrist, and tugged her through the door with a helpless shriek.

For one brief moment, it occurred to her to panic. She found herself stumbling toward the center of a darkened room without her wand. She lost her balance and lurched to the side, slamming her hip into something large and not at all soft. The pain was intense, and a moment later her elbow hit something which sounded quite convincingly like stone.

"Sorry about that," a voice whispered. "We didn't really expect you to come by tonight."

Ginny found something solid to lean against and quickly slid to the floor where she could sit and nurse her wounds. The bruise on her hip was sending throbbing waves of pain down her leg. "I don't care who you are, I'll beat you senseless if you don't give me my wand _right now_," she growled.

"_Lumos._"

A pale light shone only a few feet in front of her. George was crouched somewhat behind it, holding another wand in his hand and offering it to Ginny. She took it, and allowed George to gently help her to her feet. She lit her own wand and looked around the room in amazement. It was the twins' shop, but it was darkened and deserted. There was no lamp, no Fred, and no pile of coins and parchment.

"But... I saw—"

"Pretty clever, isn't it?" George said with a smile. "We don't really know what to call them yet. We've been calling them Publicity Windows for now. They're like the windows in the Ministry, except they remember a scene and then replay that over and over." He smiled proudly at them. "Pretty convincing, aren't they? Obviously, no one's likely to believe that Fred and I are going to spend all night counting money, so we'll have to change it soon. Maybe we can find some ferocious dog to prowl about."

He walked over to the door and poked at it with his wand, it shimmered slightly. He knocked lightly on it. Hearing a firm, solid _thunk_, he smiled and put his wand away. "Come on," he said in an encouraging voice. "We've got a visitor who'll be interested in seeing you."

George led her over to the door to the storage room. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, but didn't enter. "We had another break-in last night," he explained as he waited. After a second or two, the doorway gave a dull red flash and George led her into the storage room.

Fred was sitting in the center of the room, bent over a small table and poking at something with his wand. To her surprise, Ron was sitting at the same table with his back to her.

"Ah, George!" Fred called out. "That took long enough. Did they finally get the point?"

"Not really," George answered.

"I guess we'll just have to try that Shocking Charm," Fred responded. "Now that you're back, can you check and see if you can find our old guards?"

"It's pointless. You'll never fix it. Those things aren't made to be fixed. They're made to never be broken."

"That's what I told him," Fred replied without looking up. "They could fix this in a day over at Quality Quidditch Supplies. It'd be just like new, but Ron's being stubborn."

"Stubborn?" Ron shot back. "I'd have to be mental to walk into that shop after today's match. I've heard quite enough jokes this week, thanks."

"What'd you do to it, anyway?" Fred asked, as he aimed his wand at the broken buckle. "I've never seen a Bludger do anything like this."

"It was Ginny's fault," Ron explained. "She wanted to talk with me, but got impatient and blasted it."

George smiled. "Funny you should mention her..."

"It was _my_ fault?" Ginny snapped. Ron's head spun around to stare at her. "You were the one who made that horribly piggish comment about—"

"Yes, alright!" Ron interrupted her. "I may have exaggerated a bit. It's been a bad day. I'm sure Fred and George aren't interested in hearing every little detail." By the looks on their faces, it seemed as if they would have been quite interested in that particular detail, but Ron didn't give Ginny a chance to explain.

"Have you seen Hermione?"

"Yes," Ginny answered, suddenly remembering why she was here.

"How long ago?"

"I don't know. Maybe five or ten minutes."

"She's gone," he announced.

"I know. She got called back to the Department of Mysteries while we were talking."

Ron stood up and stared at her. Fred had stopped toying with the buckle and was watching closely as well.

"What were you talking about before she left?"

"That's between her and me," Ginny answered. The less Ron knew the less she would have to worry about him.

"You might as well tell me now. I'll just ask her when she comes back."

"If either of us know by then, we'll tell you." Without any more explanation she turned to George and started pulling out whatever coins she could find in her pockets and piling them on the table. "I need some supplies," she told him. "First, I'll need a Disappearing Diary or some Vanishing Vellum." George shrugged and started rifling through a nearby drawer.

"Hold on," Ron said. "What do you mean, 'if either of you know'? You know right now, why wouldn't you know tomorrow?"

"I might forget," she answered. George slid a small black book across the table toward Ginny. She picked it up, pulled a quill and inkwell from a nearby shelf, and sat down in Ron's chair.

"What are you doing?"

Ginny opened the small book and after a brief pause to get over the bizarre tightness in her stomach, she started writing in the Diary. "I'm writing myself a reminder," she offered in explanation. She wrote small and quickly, trying to think of every detail from her conversation with Hermione. For a minute or more, the room was silent as everyone waited for Ginny to say anything more about what she was doing.

"Why not just tell me?" Ron finally asked. "I promise I'll remind you."

"That'd work just fine," Ginny said as she scratched away at the parchment, "but what if you forget to remind me, or forget what it was that you were supposed to remind me of?"

"I promise I won't forget."

Ginny put down the quill, and closed the book. "Sorry, Ron, but there's simply no way you can promise that." She stood up and turned the book over. On the back cover was a small, golden square. She took out her wand and tapped it twice. After a quick search through the pages, she was satisfied that no one would be able to read it.

"I need you to deliver this to me tomorrow," she said as she handed the Diary to George. "Keep it someplace safe, but not in the shop and not in this room. Somewhere upstairs. Send it by owl sometime tomorrow night." Fred nodded slowly.

"What's going on, Ginny?" Ron asked. "Does this have something to do with the Quidditch match?"

"No," Ginny lied. It was an obvious lie, but it made her feel better than admitting the truth. "I need a few of your shield cloaks. The cloaks— not the robes. I'll need a hood."

Fred gave her a curious look. "We've only got one. They're only popular with the goblins."

"What?" Ron exclaimed. "Why do the goblins want full length cloaks?"

"What do we care?" Fred replied as he started looking through a nearby rack of robes. "I can't say we're all that fussed about it. They order in bulk and pay in advance. I'd sell knickers to a mermaid for business like that." He tossed something large and black at Ginny.

She held it up. It was far too large for her, but it had a hood and was still fairly light weight. She took out her wand and wrapped the cloak around her. It would work fine after a few adjustments. "You only have the one?" she asked. "How long before I could get more?"

Fred and George shared a concerned look. "Maybe a day or two," Fred said. "How many do you need?"

"We've actually got one more," George announced. "The goblins asked for an extra one yesterday. It's a light tan, but we can change that later, if you like. The goblins won't come by to pick it up before noon and I can make another before then."

With a silent nod from Ginny, he turned and walked back through the door to the rest of the store. She was focusing on shortening and shrinking the cloak to fit her better. When she was finished she took it off and tried to think of what color it should be. With a determined grin, she touched her wand to the fabric and it slowly faded to a color that matched the stone of the walls around her. With luck, the grey-cloaked wizards would take this to mean that she wasn't their enemy.

George returned with the second cloak, and Ginny quickly wrapped it into a tight roll, shrunk it to the size of her fist, and stuffed it into a pocket.

"That's it?" Fred asked. "Nothing else?"

"No, I think that will do for now," Ginny answered. She pushed the smile pile of coins toward George. "I know this doesn't cover it, but it's all I've got right now."

George pushed the pile back toward her. "Keep it. If you really need those cloaks, you'll need all of that."

"What's going on, Ginny?" Ron asked.

"Where are you going that you need two of those cloaks?" Fred added.

Ginny stood and smiled at her brothers. "I've had a rough day. I think I need a bit of a drink."

"You're not going to the Leaky Cauldron," Ron said, his eyes wide in surprise. "The French delegates are there. Hasn't anyone told you about that bloke D'Anneau?"

"I can handle myself around Henri D'Anneau," Ginny said with a hint of bitterness. "Relax. I won't be having any... private discussions with him." She walked to the back door and stopped. "Is this one cursed as well?"

"Yes," Fred answered with a nod. "Don't touch the handle. Tap the hinge with your wand and wait for the red flash." Ginny did as he said and had to jump out of the way as the hinge-side of the door swung out toward her. She stood and waited for the flash which would tell her that whatever hex they had put on the doorway was deactivated.

"Still, you've got to be mental to show your face there," Ron argued. "The wizards who attacked you, they could be there waiting for you."

"Yes, they could."

"This is about Charlie, isn't it?" Fred asked. "We'll help you, if you just tell us what is happening."

"I know you would," Ginny replied. "You already have. And although I hate sounding like Hermione, it's better if you don't ask questions right now. I may need your help again soon. I'll see if I can tell you more then."

There was a flash of red, and Ginny turned to walk out the door. She stepped out into the dark alley and heard the metallic _clack_ of the door locking behind her. She wrapped the grey cloak around her again and pulled the hood over her head. It may not be the best disguise, but it was better than nothing, and more protective than anything Madam Malkin's could sell her.

She quietly stepped out into the street and began walking toward the Leaky Cauldron.

Ginny walked into the pub with purpose and determination. She made certain that she didn't show any of the nervousness she felt as dozens of wizards turned to stare at her as she entered. She pulled back her hood and walked to the bar as if it were any other day. The only wizard who hadn't noticed her was Lord Albert, who was currently focusing all of his attention on using his wand to refill the large bottle of Firewhiskey in front of him.

Tom was giving her a peculiar look, but it didn't stop him from giving her his customary nod and pushing the day's _Daily Prophet_ toward her. She took it and began walking to her usual table. Along the way, she noticed the old wizard with the black beard sitting with the same wizards she'd seen him with at the match. He noticed her as well, and spoke up.

"I hear you made it into the match," he said with a slight smile, "though not with the best company. They came here looking for you. Seemed a little put out at the time." He stopped and looked at her as if he'd just noticed her. "That's an interesting cloak you've got there. Do they sell them around here?"

Ginny was caught off guard. Why had he asked about the cloak? Why had he asked about it? Did he know something about the grey-cloaked wizards? Or was it something closer? She tried to think of an answer which might get him to talk about them more.

"Oh, it's just a standard black cloak," she told him casually. "I had to charm it to get it to look like this. I've been looking for something in this color for a while now."

The result wasn't what she'd hoped for. Instead of showing any sign of recognition, he merely shrugged and shook his head. "I don't see why black isn't good enough for anybody. Witches and wizards these days —it's even the grown wizards now— wearing all manner of robes and cloaks. I suppose you're free to look however you like." He let out a short grunt. "You just keep your wits about you, and enjoy your evening. I've got a game to win."

He gave her one last smile before turning back to the chess board on the table, leaving Ginny feeling a little disappointed. She took her seat and started scanning the room over the top of the _Prophet_. The Leaky Cauldron had a few extra patrons that night. It was also quite a bit darker than she was used to, and quite a bit more difficult to see into all the corners and shadows. As she searched the large main room, her eyes caught a group of cloaked wizards coming down the stairs.

It was the French delegates. For a moment, she felt like trying to hide, but thought better of it. She'd stay right where she was. Henri D'Anneau wasn't going to attack her. At worst he'd disgust her. Just as she'd expected, D'Anneau spotted her quickly and walked toward her, trailing the blonde witch, Sabine, and one of the wizards.

"Good evening, Ginny," he said as he smiled and sat down across from her.

Ginny returned a forced smile. "I never mentioned that name to you," she told him.

His smile melted away. "I admit it. This afternoon was not the first time I have heard of you."

"So, you were lying to me when we met? You knew who I was. You knew who my brother was. Why shouldn't I think you were lying about everything you claimed you could do for me?"

"I was not lying," D'Anneau declared with as much sincerity as he could gather. "I said only that I had heard of you. I had not expected we would meet today, nor had I any idea what you looked like."

"And the rest of our conversation was completely honest?" Ginny asked. "You weren't trying to deceive me?"

"Deception is a major part of my job. It's a part of yours as well, whether you know it is occurring or not. Still, it does not have to prevent us from working together. There is still much that we might gain by friendship. There is information I can give you. Information about what happened after the match?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do. You saw something unexpected. Something which isn't supposed to exist."

Ginny tried to control herself. He knew about Harry (or was it an impostor?) and the other wizards. How much would he tell her. "I want to know about the wand."

"That is a very complicated subject."

"So I've heard."

"I may be able to tell you quite a bit, but I cannot do it here," he told her. "Come. Join me in my room and we can discuss many things."

"I don't think so," Ginny answered coldly. "I don't trust you. I think you'd say just about anything to... get what you want. I can't even tell if you know everything you claim you do." Ginny felt her heart racing, but forced herself to appear calm. If she could keep him talking, she might get more information from him.

"What guarantee could I make?" he asked. "What would you ask of me that might prove my reliability?"

"Where is the wand?" she asked quietly. In one question she hoped to D'Anneau might be forced to reveal quite a bit of information.

"You're asking quite a bit," he whispered. "The answer is more complex than you realize."

"You don't know, do you?" Ginny responded, hoping to needle him into saying more.

"If I did know where it was, and did not return it, would I not be as much of a thief as the one who took it?"

"So tell me what you do know."

"I would like nothing more than to do just that," D'Anneau said in a hushed voice, "but I _cannot do that here_. Please. Join me in my room. We have little time and there is much for us to discuss."

"I think you're lying."

"I assure you I am not. You _must_ trust me." His smooth, charming nature had melted away, but instead of arrogance and anger, D'Anneau's face was filled with desperation and a little fear. "Can you not trust me? Is there nowhere else we might go?" he pleaded.

"You can go home to France, where you belong," an uneven voice called out. A tall figure pushed forward between the witch and wizard behind D'Anneau. With a single motion, he grasped D'Anneau's shoulders and pulled him to his feet. Ginny sat frozen in her seat. It was Lord Albert.

He gave D'Anneau a rough shove and sat down in his seat. "You've been harassing this witch quite enough," he said as he pulled a cup from his pocket. With the other hand he fished the usual bottle of Firewhiskey from his other pocket. He set both of them on the table, but didn't actually let go of them. As he filled his glass, he looked over his shoulder at the three French delegates.

"You're done here," he called out in a voice that was only slightly slurred. "You've seen your match and finished your business. You tried to make your deal, and she isn't interested."

D'Anneau looked panicked. "Please, I meant her no harm—"

"'Course you wouldn't see it as harm, would you?" Lord Albert said with a little more hostility. He threw back the glass of Firewhiskey and set it on the table. It wasn't until then that Ginny realized he'd let go of his bottle. His wand was in that hand now, and it was pointed at Henri D'Anneau. "It's not enough to have power, is it? You want the thrill of exploiting young witches. Perhaps next time you should just _do your job and leave_."

Lord Albert had spoken with such vehemence that even the arrogant D'Anneau was caught off guard. His whole personality seemed to have changed. He appeared uncertain and paranoid, like some cornered animal. His eyes shifted from Ginny to Lord Albert and back to Ginny. His eyes twitched, as if an idea had suddenly struck him.

"I— Please accept my apology." he said quickly. "Allow me to make it up to you. There is something I must attend to immediately. Goodnight. I hope we might meet again, in better moods. " He turned and walked away quickly.

Over her new friend's shoulder, she watched as D'Anneau said a few sharp words to his companions, then walked to the fireplace and disappeared in a flash of green flame. Ginny stared at the flames for a moment. D'Anneau had been the only source of information and now he was gone, probably for good.

He'd behaved strangely, though. He'd obviously had some plan, and she had ruined it. Why had it upset him so much? Certainly she wasn't the first witch to turn him away. It had been more than that, she told herself. He hadn't acted annoyed or frustrated. He was frightened. How could Ginny frighten a wizard like Henri D'Anneau?

"Don't you worry about him," Lord Albert said as he filled his glass again. "He won't bother you anymore. That D'Anneau chap likes to pretend he's important, but he's not." He downed his glass and sat back with a satisfied smile. "He's not like you. When you've seen as many wizards as I have, you can tell which ones are worth knowing."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't really know what I mean," he laughed. "Sometimes I say things... and they make sense when I say 'em, but I don't really remember why." He stopped to stare into the bottom of his empty glass. "At least, I don't think I remember why." He shrugged and started filling his glass again. "You want any?" he asked as he offered the bottle to her.

"Is it really Firewhiskey?" Ginny asked, marveling at the impossible amount he had ingested in the last two minutes.

"No, not really," he laughed. "Oh, it's close enough to fool most people around here—not that it takes much, mind you."

Ginny smiled and agreed, and to her surprise, Lord Albert pulled a second glass from his robes and set it down next to his. "Always keep a spare," he whispered. "I've never really trusted a glass I didn't clean myself, you know?" He slowly filled it with the bottle in his other hand. When it was half full, he stopped and gently slid it toward her. "There you are, er... what was your name?"

"Ginny. Ginny Weasley."

"Ah, that's not so bad," he said. "That's much easier to say than mine. You can just call me Albert."

"Alright. Thank you, Albert," Ginny said as she gingerly lifted the glass. Now that she got a good look at it, it didn't quite look like Firewhiskey. It was lighter in color and weight, and seemed to have a more floral aroma. With a shrug and a smile, she raised her glass in salute.

Ginny had tried Firewhiskey before. It hadn't been an entirely unpleasant experience, but it had been enough to keep her away from it in the future. From the moment the concoction left the glass, she knew that Albert had told her the truth. It was obviously not Firewhiskey. The searing agony it caused made her memory of Firewhiskey seem almost pleasant. She gasped for air as it reached her stomach and made her feel as if her whole body was truly on fire.

Through the coughing and gasping and thunderous pounding of her own heart, she could hear Albert laughing. "Now that's a fine drink, eh? Never could stand the English stuff. It's watered-down." Ginny tried to respond, but she was still trying to breathe.

"Come on, it's not that bad," Albert remarked. "The first one is always the worst. The second one goes down much smoother, and by the third you won't even remember the first."

Ginny wiped the tears from her eyes and found him sliding her glass back toward her. It was already half full again.

"Are you mental?" she croaked.

"According to most people, yeah," he laughed as he downed another glass. "I used to try and argue with them, but I always forgot which side I was on. Once you make that mistake, it's pretty hard to fix." He shrugged. "At least you asked. Most people just tell me, as if it was something I didn't already know. Not you, though. You're different. I knew something was off when you didn't show up like usual and then that French bloke pranced in here, asking for you. I may be a raving lunatic, but I know when I see trouble coming."

Ginny stared at Albert. Perhaps she could still find what she came here for. However, it would be risky and it would require putting quite a bit of trust in a man who lived every moment of his life in a state well beyond drunkenness. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, picked up the glass in front of her, and drank it in a single gulp.

"You didn't notice anything else when D'Anneau showed up, did you? Did anyone—" Ginny paused to blink away her tears. He'd been right. The burning was tolerable this time, but only barely so. She clenched her teeth through the worst of it, and finished her question. "Did anyone else ask for me?"

Albert smirked and nodded. "And how would you know that? You're not one of those witches who can read people's thoughts? I knew a witch who tried that that on a cat once. She's got her own bed in St. Mungo's now. Tragic."

"So there was someone?"

"One, yeah," he said quietly. "That shifty one behind me. The one who's always playing chess? He came in a little after the Frenchman. He was asking about you, too," He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "I've never trusted him. He relies on his rooks far too much for any normal wizard. He's not right in the head, I tell you."

Ginny wondered how much she could trust the comments of a man who was in the process of ingesting appalling amounts of liquor. Still, it was still suspicious.

"That wasn't the strangest part, though. Another wizard came running in a little after the rest of them. He didn't ask for you but he disappeared real quick once you showed up."

"What did he look like?" Ginny asked as she stared at the half filled glass still in front of her. How many had she drank? Was this her third? When had he filled the last one?

"He was in a sour mood," Albert said as he filled her glass again. She stared down at it. It had been full just a second ago. He was looking thoughtfully at his bottle as he passed the glass back to her. "A tall, severe looking chap. Dark green dragon-hide boots. Never could stand dark green boots. Too flashy, you know? No real point."

"What did he look like?" Ginny asked. She found herself lifting her glass again, but stopped herself.

Albert frowned. "You're right. You've probably had enough." He took the glass from her and drank it himself. "He was a strange looking fellow. White hair, but not even as old as me. He was here before. The day you were so interested in the dragons. He slipped out as soon as you started talking to that chess playing git."

"I knew he had to be one of them," Ginny said groggily. Now that she'd stopped drinking, she was starting to feel a little dizzy. "Should have known."

"You alright, Miss?" Albert asked her. "You don't drink much, do you?" Ginny started to nod, but stopped when the room started spinning around her. "Come on," he said as he stood and gently helped her to do the same. "You should go home."

"Can't go home," she mumbled. "They're waiting for me."

"Don't you worry about the Frenchman," he said in a calm voice. "He's long gone."

"Not him," she whispered. "The others. They follow me. I have to find the grey wizards."

"Not tonight, you won't," he replied. "All you need to find tonight is a soft bed. Come on. You can use a bit of my Floo Powder."

"Won't work," Ginny said through the fog in her mind. "It's not connected; have to Apparate."

"Well if you're going to Apparate, you're going to need a little more of this." He quickly poured another glass and handed it to her. Without thinking, she drank it and felt the world slipping back into focus. "You'd better be off now. That's not going to last long." Ginny nodded. He looked her in the eyes. "You remember where home is?"

"No," she murmured. "Not home. Someplace better. They won't follow me there."

"Well, do you remember where that is?"

"Yeah," she answered. "London. Black House."

"I've no idea what you're talking about," he said with a confused expression, "but so long as you do, I'm sure you'll do fine."

Ginny nodded. She could see the edges of her vision blurring again. She hoped she would remember all of this tomorrow. Right now, she needed to get to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. She closed her eyes and focused on her memory of the pavement across the street. After a brief sensation of being crushed, she felt her feet land on the pavement. She stumbled, but didn't fall down. Slowly, she walked across the street and slipped into the deserted house.


	7. Uncomfortable Consequences

Chapter 7

Uncomfortable Consequences

Ginny awoke the next morning feeling as if she'd been attacked by a dozen Bludgers. The light streaming in through the window burned her eyes and none of her muscles were working quite right. She tried to remember just how much she'd had to drink the night before, but she was having trouble concentrating. Something was irritating her. Some thought was poking at her dulled mind, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. As she tried to concentrate on it, another series of stabbing pains shot through her shoulder.

She recoiled from the source, causing even more pain to jump through her limbs. She squinted around the room and jumped again when her eyes found Kreacher standing next to the couch she'd fallen asleep on.

He reached forward and poked her with a knobby finger. "Miss needs to wake up. The Ministry will come if she does not," Kreacher croaked with a forced smile. "There are no wizards waiting for her now, but there will be if she keeps to her lazy, blood-traitor ways."

As soon as Ginny sat up, Kreacher's face fell and he started shuffling out of the room. "You'd prefer it if they did, wouldn't you?" she called out before he could disappear.

Kreacher stopped and turned around. For a moment, his face had been contorted into an agonized scowl, but it was quickly replaced with the false smile again. "Of course. Kreacher would be happy to live in peace and silence without having to deal with filthy trollops who break into his house smelling like expensive whiskey and nasty French wizards. But Kreacher is just a house elf. He has no choice." His smile faltered for a moment. He stared at her, and spoke slowly. "Wise master gave Kreacher orders."

Ginny ignored his glares and massaged her temples, hoping that it might somehow stop the pounding in her head. "But he's gone," she said. "Why do you still follow his orders?"

"Kreacher cannot disobey," he croaked. "Filthy master was very thorough. Kreacher cannot leave the house, and cannot reveal himself to anyone outside the house."

Ginny and Kreacher stared at each other, each finding the other thoroughly repulsive. After a moment, Kreacher turned to shuffle back into the kitchen. Ginny felt something odd about his behavior. He'd never been so hospitable as to wake her with anything less than the pounding of pans against the floor.

"Where is your master, Kreacher?"

Kreacher's body froze. He turned back toward her. His lips were trembling in a restrained scowl, but his eyes flashed with a rebellious gleam. "Master is gone," he said stiffly. "Master left to fight the great wizard. Kreacher never saw him return. Kreacher never heard if he returned. Kreacher has seen nothing that might him think think Master has returned. Kreacher cannot tell you anything," He flashed a sneering smile at her. "Kreacher must go. Kreacher knows nothing about his very _thorough_ master."

Ginny sat on the sofa for a moment, trying to make some sense of what was happening. It should have been easier, but her head felt like a cauldron of Polyjuice potion. The rest of her body was little better. Her arms and legs ached, her back was stiff and her stomach felt tense and knotted. She now understood why Albert drank so much. If this is what it felt like when you stopped, it might be worth drinking the stuff for the rest of your life. Of course, doing that might result in reaching the end of your life much sooner than you might like, but death couldn't be much worse than how Ginny currently felt.

She eventually forced herself to stand up and walk around. Only the memory of Kreacher's words convinced her not to lay back down. He'd said there were no wizards waiting for her, but there would be. What did he mean? While her mind tried to work that problem out, there was a light tapping at the window which was amplified to mind-splitting agony in her head.

She carefully walked to the window, trying to move as smoothly as possible and avoid jarring her throbbing head. Outside the window, a large barn owl was perched on the ledge. Ginny carefully opened the window and retrieved a roll of parchment tied to the owl's foot.

She opened it quickly and tried to read it. Her vision was still a little blurry and the light shining off the clean parchment made her eyes feel like they were going to pop out of her skull, but she was able to read enough of it to understand what was going on. Mrs. Reading was summoning her to the Ministry. Usually, she wouldn't be required to be at the Ministry for another half hour, but if she hadn't drank enough to incapacitate a troll last night, she would have already been there. The summons simply made her immediate departure a requirement.

There was an extra message at the bottom of the note: _Please deliver this in person to the watch wizard on duty at the main gate_. She frowned at it and walked back to a dimmer part of the room. She searched for her wand, noticing the horrible state her robes were in. Ignoring that for the moment, she waved her wand over the parchment, and frowned again as it glowed a faint violet.

It was a trick Tonks had taught her. It meant that they had put a tracking charm on it. It wouldn't allow them to get into Grimmauld Place, but if she didn't leave soon, they'd still know where to find her.

She walked into the kitchen and saw Kreacher slipping out the other door. The table was littered with crumbs from a piece of old bread. Ginny ignored the mess. She didn't have time to deal with it. She walked immediately over to the spare cupboard and found some clean robes. After changing quickly, she used her wand to fix her hair and any obvious problems with her clothes.

She put any thoughts of Kreacher or D'Anneau aside and focused on her current problem. She'd been summoned to the Ministry. Was it related to Hermione's summons the previous night? There was nothing she could do about it now. She couldn't very well ignore it, and she didn't have any time to think of anything else. Taking a deep breath, she opened the front door and walked out of Grimmauld Place.

There didn't seem to be anyone around. She walked quickly across the street and into the dark alleyway she often used. Once there, she waited for another minute, then checked again. She still couldn't see anyone. Perhaps there wasn't any danger after all. Or perhaps Kreacher knew something she didn't. She pushed the thought from her mind again, and tried to ignore the shooting pain in her head long enough to Disapparate to the Ministry.

After her second try, she found herself standing unsteadily in the Ministry Entrance Hall. Loads of other wizards were Apparating around her. She was able to walk more naturally now, though the very idea of walking any faster made her feel dizzy.

As she made her way to the security desk, she tried to get a look at the room around her. She couldn't see anyone who was paying any attention to her much less following her. She handed the parchment to the wizard at the desk. He took it lazily, stamped it and tossed it into a drawer without even looking at her. Feeling somewhat disappointed in the lack of attention she was attracting, she slipped into the flow of people walking through the gate.

The moment she passed through the gate she saw him. Standing at the end of the hall and staring at her was the white haired wizard Albert had pointed out the previous night. He wasn't wearing a hood anymore and she could see his face clearly. She had hoped there might be something about his face that would feel familiar once she'd seen it, but there was nothing. There was no doubt that he was the same wizard, but beyond that, she'd never seen him before.

After realizing that she'd been standing there staring back at him, she looked away and made her way to one of the queues of wizards waiting for a lift. To her horror, the white-haired wizard followed her, standing directly behind her. It became quite uncomfortable, but she didn't know what else to do. He couldn't attack her here. They were surrounded by Ministry employees. They wouldn't stand for it, not after what happened to Charlie.

The lift in front of her opened, and it suddenly struck her. He'd gotten past the gate. He wasn't disguised. He wasn't hiding.

He was a Ministry employee.

They'd sent for Hermione the night before. Ginny felt her heart pounding in her chest. Had they sent him out to keep an eye on her until she could be summoned the next morning? What had he been told to do?

She walked into the lift and stood stiffly as he took a space right next to her. She was trapped. Where could she go? Would wizards be waiting for her in the Department of International Magical Cooperation? Maybe she could get off early? _He's here so you don't do that_, Ginny told herself. There really wasn't anything she could do.

Not wanting to risk looking him in the eye, she kept her head down and focused on the floor of the lift as people marched out at each level. He was wearing smooth black leather boots with ornate gold trim. It reminded her of the sort of excessively flashy things Lucius Malfoy had enjoyed buying.

As the lift neared her floor, she felt her anger building. She hadn't done anything wrong. Hermione hadn't even told her anything useful. She had, of course, given Ginny access to the Spectrecorder and said some things she shouldn't have, but that wasn't so bad that it warranted the treatment she was getting.

The lift doors doors opened noisily and announced that Ginny had reached her destination. She stepped out of the lift with grim determination, and whirled around to face the wizard following her.

He wasn't there.

As the lift descended, Ginny just caught the face of the white-haired wizard staring back at her with an expressionless face. What was going on? Wasn't he following her? Ginny turned and hesitantly walked toward Carmilla's desk.

"Good morning, Miss Weasley," Carmilla greeted her warmly. "Running a little late today?"

"Yeah, I had a tiring day yesterday," Ginny replied with some uncertainly.

"That's what I hear," Carmilla laughed. "You apparently handled yourself well enough. Watch out, though. Harrington's a bit upset. It's mostly an injured ego, but he'll have to deal with the Minister as well, and that always puts him in a sour mood."

"It's not because of something I said, is it? I tried to be professional, but Mr. D'Anneau was rather pushy and—"

"—No, no," Carmilla interrupted. "You did just fine. In fact, you did spectacular. Well, I suspect they'll explain it all to you. Mrs. Reading has been anxious to find you. We were just about to send the Aurors out."

Ginny nodded vacantly as Carmilla explained about what had happened that morning. Apparently an owl had been waiting for Mrs. Reading when she'd arrived. After realizing Ginny hadn't shown up at her normal time, she'd sent out the summons. "It wasn't a serious thing," Carmilla reassured her. "I think she was worried about you. We heard that you were chased at the match."

Ginny fumbled her way through the rest of the conversation and eventually walked off to her small and seldom-used cubicle down the hall. She sat down and stared blankly at the books, parchment and inkwells scattered across her small desk. She was completely confused about what was happening. There was little point in doing anything until someone explained what was going on, so she simply sat and tried to ignore her nausea.

"Working hard, I see," announced a dull voice behind her. Ginny spun around to find Evelyn glowering at her over a large stack of folders. "Does it ever get tiring? Just sitting about looking pretty? But then, you've had quite a bit of practice at it, haven't you? I hear you made quite an impression on Henri D'Anneau."

"I'm terribly sorry, Evelyn," Ginny groaned, feeling not at all sorry, "but I'm not feeling well and I've got a lot on my mind right now."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Evelyn replied in a patronizing voice. "I forgot that you're not used to having anything on your mind."

Ginny turned toward her, prepared to return some biting response, but it disappeared when the world didn't stop spinning when her head did. A wave of dizziness struck her, and when it had passed, Evelyn was smiling at her.

"Feeling ill? You were a bit late this morning as well, weren't you? I guess you must have had a long night. You didn't spend the night setting up any, er... cultural exchanges, did you?"

Ginny's bloodshot eyes narrowed as she scowled back at her. "Have we met before? Is there some reason why you dislike me?"

"I didn't need to meet you," Evelyn answered, continuing the same insulting tone. "I've met plenty of witches like you. You're no different than the others. You haven't even thanked me for my advice."

"What advice was that?"

"Don't insult my intelligence," Evelyn snapped. "What are you going to tell Cordelia? That you and Henri talked about the impact of the unicorn migrations on the nomadic wizard bands of the Balkans? Perhaps you'll just tell her that you were discussing the embarrassing show your brother put on. But you and I both know that D'Anneau doesn't even like Quidditch. I told you what he did like and you used it to get what you wanted. Since you can't lower yourself to thank me, let's see how you do without me holding your hand."

Ginny rubbed her eyes and tried to shake her head clear. "What are you talking about? What aren't you helping me with?"

"Oh, of course. You couldn't possibly know what's going on because no one's told you, right? Well, I'm sure it will all make sense shortly. Until then, here is France—" she dropped a third of her stack of folders on Ginny's desk, "—and here is World Cup Voting Procedures." She unceremoniously dropped the remaining folders next to the first stack.

Ginny stared at in bewilderment. "What—"

"Miss Sibley, I told you to deliver those after the meeting," Mrs. Reading interrupted as she walked up behind Evelyn and gave her a disapproving glare.

"It's alright, Cordelia," she replied lightly. "Ginny's terribly clever. I'm sure she has already figured it out." With one last glare, she turned and walked away.

"Is she correct?" Mrs. Reading asked Ginny.

"No," Ginny answered slowly. She'd expected to be reprimanded or suspended or be sent to the Aurors, not insulted by some spoiled witch in a foul mood. There was something else, and she was tired of being left in the dark. "I have no idea what she's talking about. I overslept and was woken up by your note. I came as quickly as I could."

Mrs. Reading gave her an appraising look, then smiled and nodded. "Alright. Well, you'd best come with me. I have to speak with Harrington, and it's only fair that you be there to hear it."

Ginny followed Mrs. Reading down the corridor to Harrington's office. She felt tense just walking back into the office. The memory of the last time she'd been there was still vivid. Given the look on Harrington's face upon seeing her, perhaps this visit would not be terribly different than the last.

"I should have expected this," he announced. "Why shouldn't she be involved in every single thing this department does? She's been here less than a month and is already creating policy, so why not include her in administration as well? By the way, does she still work for me or is she reporting directly to Scrimgeour, now?"

Mrs. Reading bristled. "You agreed when we hired her that she would report to me and be my responsibility."

"Ahh! So you're going to handle Reynard, are you? You'll speak with the Minister when he hears about it?"

"I would," she replied with a sly smile, "but I specifically remember a memo stating that all inter-departmental business should be left to you."

Harrington scowled at her. "Nonetheless, I didn't call you in here to speak about this business with Reynard. We need to talk about the other problem first. Certainly she doesn't need to be here for that."

"Why shouldn't she be here? You told me that she would take orders from me. I can't stop you from second-guessing my decisions, but if you're going to start telling her what to do, I think you should do it to her face."

Harrington sat back in defeat. "Then by all means, let's begin. But we'll start with this problem with Reynard first." With a rather stern expression, he turned to glare at Ginny.

"Yesterday evening, you visited Hermione Granger, an employee of the Department of Mysteries. During a conversation, she revealed some information she was not supposed to share. Did you ask her to reveal this information?"

Ginny took a moment to think. How much did he know? Would he know if she lied? Was there any reason why she should lie? She finally answered, "I didn't know it was anything she wasn't supposed to talk about." It was mostly true.

"So you did ask her to reveal information?"

"No," Ginny replied. "I asked her about a friend. I didn't know we weren't allowed to discuss our friends."

"That would be a perfectly understandable explanation were you talking about another wizard, but you know very well that the wizard you were asking about wasn't just your friend, and has a much greater importance to the rest of the wizarding world."

"So, she's to be punished for knowing important wizards?" Mrs. Reading asked.

"No," Harrington growled, "she's to be punished for pressing a Department of Mysteries employee for information on one of the biggest mysteries of our time. If she is so ignorant that she cannot remember where Miss Granger works, then I don't see the point in sending her out of this office."

"I wasn't asking for that," Ginny argued. "I'd never ask her to do anything illegal. I never asked her about her work. It was nothing. We've had that conversation a hundred times. This is the first time anyone's ever been hauled back to the Ministry because of it."

"Perhaps you don't understand the seriousness of this situation," he said in a quieter voice. "This isn't like having your friends help you get a job. This is the the kind of thing that can make you lose your job, or worse."

Ginny felt a small stab of fear at the sound of that. What would she do if she lost her job? Her parents would help her, of course, but that would only last so long. Her worries were interrupted by Mrs. Reading clearing her throat.

"You know very well that you aren't going to get rid of her," she chastised Harrington. "If she's telling the truth, then she hasn't really done anything wrong."

"And if she's lying, then we've got a problem which cannot be fixed," Harrington replied. "Even if you are telling the truth, it's terribly serious. Between that and your rather suspicious success with D'Anneau, I'd say you'd best keep your head down for a while. The next time anything like this happens, you'll find yourself in front of the Wizengamot, and the last time I checked, you didn't have any friends there anymore."

"Until then, what am I supposed to do with you, Miss Weasley? I can't have you sacked, I can't let Reynard or anyone else in the Department of Mysteries tell me how to run my department, and Cordelia won't let me punish you. Am I supposed to pretend this didn't happen? I can't tell the Minister that you were punished if you weren't and I can't tell him that I let her do nothing. So, what should she do?"

"I'm going to promote her."

Both Ginny and Harrington turned to stare at Mrs. Reading. If she felt at all uncomfortable, she wasn't showing it.

"You're going to do what?" Harrington asked incredulously. "Have you gone mad? It's preposterous! And it's impossible. The Minister expressly said that she must remain in this position."

"No, the Minister said _someone_ needed to remain in that position." Mrs. Reading corrected him. "He certainly didn't mean that we should hire someone who could never be promoted. Besides, there's no other way to let her go. We made a deal with the goblins. I'll just find someone else to take her place. It'll be easier this time. We won't have to make a decision in a day. I've already got someone coming in to see me tomorrow. Scrimgeour won't even have to know that we're doing it until it's all fixed."

Harrington leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. "Well, that's perfect. I've spent the last three years trying to build some sort of stability in this department, and you're trying your hardest to help another Weasley meet even more influential friends. Why not give her my job?"

Mrs. Reading smiled back at him. "She'd never be able to do it with the same amount of cheer and friendliness that you have."

The older wizard narrowed his eyes. "Fine. Do it," he snapped, "but I want her replacement hired before any rumor of this reaches the Minister's office, and if I find out that she's done anything questionable to make this happen, I _will_ have her sacked without another thought."

"I've already talked to the French Ministry about this, Ferdinand," Mrs. Reading replied. "They completely support D'Anneau and agree with his recommendations. The only one who's complaining is you. I have complete confidence in Ginny's abilities, and if they didn't, they wouldn't have asked for her."

"Excuse me," Ginny interrupted. "What are you talking about?"

"This," Harrington said as he slid a roll of parchment toward her. "I found an eagle owl waiting to deliver that to me when I came in this morning. Of course, you couldn't have known it was coming, could you?"

Ginny unrolled the parchment and began reading.

To Ferdinand Harrington, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation,

The French delegation to the World Cup Site Selection Committee wishes to request your Ministry's assistance in the upcoming Site Selection Conference in Giza, Egypt. As you know, each delegation nominated for the final round of selection is allowed to select two non-voting attendants to attend the conference in order to aid the delegation and act as advocates for the potential host country.

Our delegates have asked that Ginevra Weasley be named as one of the attendants. The French Ministry requests that you make Miss Weasley available to aid the French delegation for the duration of the conference. Our Ministry will guarantee that your assistance in this matter will not be forgotten and that any expenses needed to accommodate this favor will be repaid handsomely.

Please refer to the Site Selection Committee Handbook for any information regarding dates, requirements, provisions, and restrictions regarding this request and the fulfillment thereof.

Beneath the flowing script was a large red seal, which Ginny recognized as the seal given to documents from the office of the French Minister. She'd only seen it once before, on a copy of the application to the Site Selection Committee. She didn't really understand what was going on, but that seal meant it must be serious.

"Did D'Anneau tell you about this last night?" Mrs. Reading asked. She had an oddly uncertain look on her face, as if she were afraid of what Ginny might say.

"No," Ginny answered. "He never said anything about this. I don't even know what this is."

"But he did talk with you?"

"Yes. He asked me to come to his room. I told him to shove off. He tried to apologize, but I ignored him." Even as she said it, her own words reminded her of exactly what he'd said. _Allow me to make it up to you_, he'd told her, and then: _There is something I must attend to immediately_. She had little doubt that the parchment in her hands was his attempt to compensate her, but for what? It seemed a poor way to apologize for attempting to take advantage of her. Perhaps Harrington had the right idea, and D'Anneau thought she would be eager to be able to make powerful friends. To someone like him, that might be an acceptable form of payment.

"There's nothing more?" Harrington pressed her. "What did he do after that?"

"He left pretty quick after I told him I wasn't going to talk with him."

"Satisfied?" Mrs. Reading said to Harrington.

"Do I have a choice?" he shot back at her. "I can't very well ignore a request from the French Minister, and Scrimgeour would skin me if I passed up the opportunity to have the French Ministry owe us a favor or two."

Mrs. Reading was smiling gently. "Would you like me to help you speak to Reynard? I'll be willing to vouch for Ginny myself."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Harrington replied sharply. "_I_ am the head of this department. Reynard needs to learn the fact that just because the Department of Mysteries gets special privileges, it doesn't entitle him to push anyone else around or force people to vouch for other people to make him happy. If he wants to meddle with my employees, he'll have to go through the Minister." He stood up and rubbed his eyes. Ginny hadn't realized until then just how tired he looked.

"I assume you can handle the rest of this?" he asked Mrs. Reading. "See that she gets whatever she needs: robes, a traveling chest, and so forth," She nodded and Harrington made his way to the door. "Alright then. I guess I've got a lift to catch. Good day."

Ginny and Mrs. Harrington followed him out the door. He turned toward the lifts, and Ginny followed Mrs. Reading back to her much smaller office. As she sat down in the only other chair in the office, she looked about her. It was actually smaller than the office Evelyn sat in. Mrs. Reading sat down and immediately started scratching away at a piece of parchment.

"As you read, the conference will be in Giza. I hear you've already been there, but you might find this to be a little different. First off, you'll need a set of light colored robes. Not white, though. Light grey, tan, or maybe a pale yellow. The Committee is requiring them of all visiting wizards. There are too many of them to let them all prance about the sands in purple and black. They're usually easy to find. However, it also gets pretty cold at night, so you might want a light colored cloak. They're a little more rare, but you've got a week and Madam Malkin shouldn't have a problem making one for you."

"I've already got one," Ginny said, The revelation seemed to surprise her just as much as Mrs. Reading.

"You do?" she asked. "Why exactly is that?"

Ginny didn't know what to say. "A coincidence, I guess. My brother's gave me an extra one from their shop. They had offered to change the color, but I never had the time." She didn't want to tell Mrs. Reading that she'd only gotten it last night.

"Alright. Well, I'm writing a voucher which should allow you to purchase anything else you might need from Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade or pretty much any other shop in Britain. If you abuse it, you can expect another conversation with Harrington. Short of that, don't worry. We'll just send the bill to the French Ministry. Do try and keep the reason quiet, though. Anyone who reads this should know not to ask questions, and even if they do, by time the rumor starts, we should have already fixed the problem." She rolled the parchment up and handed it to Ginny.

"Evelyn has already dropped off the research I requested for you. I had hoped that she would sort through it a bit more, but she seems to be in an exceptionally bad mood this morning. You'll want to read through as much of that as you can. I mean no offense, but I do not know why they chose you. I can only assume they have something specific in mind. I don't think they will expect you to know anything more than you already do, but it can't hurt."

"Other than that, you'll want to try and keep out of trouble. Harrington can exaggerate at times, but he was serious about this situation with Reynard. You'll want to watch what you do from now on."

Ginny stared back at her. "From now on?" she said with frustration. "For the last week and a half, I've done whatever I was told. Harrington called me a liar to my face, and I never asked to know why. I never demanded to be told why I was hired so quickly. After a week of being here, I was sent to meet with a delegation from one of the leading candidate sites for the next World Cup. I should have been the last person anyone chose, but I didn't ask why."

Ginny felt her heart pounding almost painfully in her chest, but she knew that if she stopped, she'd never finish. "Everyone else is acting as if I know what's going on. I don't. I don't know why D'Anneau's doing this. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. All I wanted was a job. I didn't ask for any of this. Now I can't even talk to my friends without Ministry approval."

She stopped, took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. "I'll do this, even though I find Henri D'Anneau to be one of the most vile wizards I've ever met —and I've met some of the very worst wizards. I've been patient until now, but someone better start explaining to me what's going on."

Mrs. Reading just sat and stared at her in shock. After an uncomfortably long period of silence she blinked and waved her wand at the door. It closed and the room echoed with the sound of the bolt locking the door.

"You really don't know, do you?" Mrs. Reading asked. "My god, what have we done? I didn't really believe Harrington, but I guess I assumed—" She stared at Ginny with wide eyes. "I feel so irresponsible. I never should have gotten you involved in this. You don't have to do this, Ginny. We can find someplace else for you to work."

"No," Ginny said quickly. As much as she might like a less complicated life, she knew that all of the trouble she was in was because she was getting closer to finding out what had happened to Charlie, and perhaps Harry. "No, I can do this. I just need to know what's going on."

Mrs. Reading started explaining what might be expected of Ginny. Customarily, the attendants to the delegations were influential wizards who would talk with the other delegations and try to get them to support the country they represented. It wasn't uncommon for the attendants to be from other countries. There was even a rumor that the Bulgarians had actually found a wizard from France who had agreed to help them.

Of course, Ginny was not terribly influential. She wasn't even well known in Britain. No one in the department really knew why she had been requested, and Ginny decided that it would be best if she didn't tell them everything that had been said between her and D'Anneau.

In the end, it was entirely possible that they would expect very little of her. She might have been requested for nothing more than the appearance of support by the British Ministry. Everyone knew the vote would be close. The British delegates were still split, and they had the potential to cast the deciding votes. Perhaps Ginny would be asked to speak with them.

More importantly, Mrs. Reading explained that the whole thing meant very little to D'Anneau. He'd never been remotely interested in the World Cup until it had given him a chance to gain political power. He wouldn't care about losing it if he was able to gain some other advantage in exchange. It was also well known that he had his sight on the French Minister's job.

If everything Ron had told her was correct, then maybe all of the demands and arguments over her job had simply been some pointless political battle between D'Anneau and the Bulgarians. He had wanted the Ministry to hire someone who knew about Quidditch, but was still young and easy to manipulate. The British delegates would be more likely to side with a British Ministry official. The Bulgarians must have seen what he was doing and had tried to stop him, but Ginny was the one who was getting blamed for all of it.

As she walked back to her desk, she tried to reconcile this with everything else she'd learned. Was it just a coincidence that D'Anneau knew about her brother? There had been no time for him to do any sort of research. He hadn't even known she was the one he'd be meeting. She concluded he must have known beforehand. That was why he'd asked about Ron. He was making a plan.

How did a power-hungry bureaucrat know so much about what had happened to Charlie? He supposedly had loads of friends across Europe. He could have heard it from any of them, yet if he were somehow personally involved, it might explain why the World Cup site selection had become so complicated.

Could D'Anneau be one of the grey-cloaked wizards? The thought was enough to make her stop in the middle of the corridor. The Romanians were France's strongest supporters. D'Anneau even said he knew the Romanian Minister. If the grey-cloaked wizards had stopped the Death Eaters at the Ministry, maybe they had been trying to protect the Romanian Minister as well. That still didn't explain how the Death Eaters were involved. It didn't explain how Harry might be involved either.

Ginny sat down at her desk and stared at the two small towers of notes and reports in front of her. She had a week to try and learn whatever she could from them. As she started skimming through the leafs of parchment in the larger stack, she couldn't help but scowl to herself. If there was anything useful in the stack, Evelyn had done an excellent job of hiding it. With a deep sigh, she sat back, grabbed a stack of parchment and started searching for something that might actually help her.

Ginny stared at the clock on the wall, waiting for it to count off one more minute. Harrington had returned from his meeting with Reynard, who appeared to be the Head of the Department of Mysteries. He hadn't seemed terribly pleased, but there was a faint look of satisfaction about his face. He hadn't said anything to Ginny, but had passed by often enough that she didn't feel like leaving any earlier than she normally did.

She was halfway through the larger of the two stacks and had created a much smaller stack of interesting items, mostly accounts of various trickery that had been accomplished during the voting conferences. She figured that if she was destined to become the subject of one of the reports, she might as well do her best to make sure she would be part of one of the clever successes and not an embarrassing disaster.

Ginny closed the large folder in her hands, and tossed it on top of the stack of other useful material. She had a whole week to go over the mountain of reports on her desk. There was something much more urgent she needed to do. She tidied up the stacks and quietly slipped out of the department. When she reached Level Eight, she stepped out of the lift with a number of other witches and wizards. They all turned and walked toward the gate at the end of the hall and the Entrance Hall on the other side of it. Ginny however, turned the other direction. She walked to the opposite end of the hall and simply stood against the blank wall and waited.

After about fifteen minutes and a hundred or so suspicious glares from passing wizards, she finally saw what she'd been waiting for: a shorter witch with a heavy bag slung over her shoulder and wavy brown hair tied back over her shoulders. Her hair had lost most of its bushiness over the last two years, but Hermione still kept it tied back, if only out of habit. Ginny quickly caught up with her and grabbed her shoulder to stop her.

With an echoing shriek, Hermione spun around, dropping her bag and spilling a number of old books across the stone floor. For a moment, there had been a look of fear on her face, but as soon as she saw Ginny's face, it disappeared. In its place, however, was a tight-lipped grimace of barely restrained anger.

"Ginny—" Hermione started, then cut herself short. "Are you— I— We can't do this. I can't talk to you right now," She knelt on the floor and began violently shoving the books back in her bag. "I... I've got... er..."

"—An urgent call from the Department of Mysteries?" Ginny offered.

Hermione stood up and gave Ginny a whithering glare. "I've got errands to run. Urgent errands. Errands that require me to be far away from here very urgently." Hermione turned back toward the gate.

"I just need to talk to you for a moment, I promise I'll—"

Hermione whirled on her. "Do you not understand what the word 'urgent' means?" she hissed. "Wait, of course you do. You just don't _listen_ to anything I say. I told you it was dangerous. I told you to stop pressing it. I told you not to ask questions about it, but you just kept pushing until you got your answers."

"So you remember everything we talked about?" Ginny asked. "How much did you tell them? What did they ask about?"

"I can't tell you," Hermione whispered as she threw paranoid glances as passing wizards.

"Why not? It's not like you'd be telling me anything I haven't already heard?"

Hermione stared sullenly back at Ginny. "I can't tell you, because I _can't remember,_" She flashed a grim smile. "I can't remember what they asked. I can't remember what I told them. I don't even know who I talked to. All I know is that they aren't going to sack me, though that's hardly good news. Of course, that was before Harrington came down to talk to Mr. Reynard, so I suppose there's still some hope for tomorrow."

"What's going on, Hermione?" Ginny asked. "Why are they doing this? We didn't talk about anything we haven't talked about before."

"We can't talk about this here," Hermione said with finality. She turned and started walking away. In two strides, Ginny caught her and spun her around again.

"We'll I can't talk about it out there," she said nodding toward the Entrance Hall. "It's not safe out there. You were right. They're following me. They've been following me for some time," Hermione tried to push herself away, but Ginny held tight. "You don't understand, Hermione," she said with more force. "Once I pass through that gate, I can't trust anyone."

"No, _you_ don't understand," Hermione said with a shove. "It's not safe _here_. It's never been safe. Not for you." With one last tug, Hermione pulled free and strode through the gate into the wider hall, leaving Ginny behind.

Once on the other side, Hermione turned and gave Ginny a sympathetic look. A moment later, she Disapparated, and for a brief instant, Ginny saw a wizard standing some distance away. He had dark hair, glasses and a long brown cloak. Ginny blinked, but when her eyes opened, he was gone.

Hermione's message had been clear enough. Even the Ministry wasn't safe. Something still didn't add up. She wasn't safe, yet she wasn't in danger either. Hermione would never leave her if she was truly in danger. It was like she was simply being watched. As if someone were waiting for something else to happen. She felt like she was stumbling about a trap, waiting for the one false step that would trigger it.

She needed to think. If nowhere was safe, then at least she could find some place where she could see the danger she was in coming at her.

Tom gave her a grim nod as she walked in. He pushed the day's _Daily Prophet_ toward her and turned back to his patrons. Ginny took it and turned toward her usual table.

Sitting two tables away were three wizards in heavy robes. Two of them wore wide brimmed hats, the other had a hood and was facing away from her. His boots however, were not hidden. They were the same gold-trimmed boots that she saw that morning. It was the white-haired wizard.

Ginny no longer doubted that he worked in the Ministry. He was probably an Auror, or perhaps someone from the Department of Mysteries. Were these the wizards who had chased her after the Quidditch match? Why would they chase her? They must have known she was going to return to the Ministry. Someone had reported the incident to the Ministry. Harrington had found out before she could even make it to his office.

Something felt wrong. Things were happening too fast. Something told her that if she sat down at her normal table, the three wizards would do something. She looked about the room, trying to find some other place to sit.

"You're not still dizzy from last night, are you?"

Ginny turned and found Lord Albert sitting on a stool at the bar. He was smiling lightly. When Ginny didn't immediately respond, he waved his bottle about in a gesture meant to encourage her to join him. She looked back at the three wizards and found two of them staring at her from under their hats. She turned her back to them.

"No, I was just trying to decide if I wanted something to drink," she said as she walked toward Albert. "I've had a bit of a rough day, and my throat's a little dry."

Faster than she could sit down, Albert had a second glass on the counter and had filled both of them from his bottle.

"Er, I was thinking I'd just stick to butterbeer, thanks," she told him as her head throbbed lightly in memory of her morning. Tom heard her comment, and gladly placed a cold glass of the beverage on the bar in front of her.

Albert gave it a disapproving look, but shrugged and smiled at her. "Suit yourself. I guess that just means there'll be more for me." Without a pause, he drained both glasses and started refilling them. "You sure you don't want one? It might help you in your current predicament."

"The last thing I need right now is another stabbing headache. Sorry, but I don't really see how it could help me."

"Sharpens the senses," he said with only a slightly slurred voice. "If you'd have had a glass or two before you came in, you might have spotted your friends over there."

"I spotted them fast enough," Ginny said as she opened the bottle of butterbeer and took a long drink.

"Wasn't talking about the blokes from the Ministry," Albert said with a crooked grin. "They're not even trying to hide. I was talking about that bloke sitting under the stairs and the goblins in the corner—don't be foolish and start looking for them now. They came in here a little before you. Nobody really took note of them, except—" Instead of finishing, he simply raised a glass of the pale liquid, smiled and tossed it back. When he put the glass back down, he was still smiling. "You sure you don't want a glass or two?"

Ginny fought the urge to turn around and instead stared into Albert's face. There was a reason this was happening. She was almost positive she knew why. She was getting closer. She was figuring it out. If she gave up now, would they just disappear again? Was that what she wanted?

"Albert, why are you helping me?"

"Can't really say," he said with a laugh. "Maybe it's the Firewhiskey. Maybe I can just see things others can't. Maybe I've seen so much that I don't even realize when something's supposed to be hidden. I can spot a bowtruckle in a pile of kindling as easily as I can spot great wizards —or witches. I've been doing it since I was young. My old uncle Antonin never talked to me again after I told him he was worth about as much as a wooden cauldron. My cousin, though, he was—"

"What do you know about Romania?" Ginny asked quickly before she lost her nerve.

"Romania? Oh, I've been there," Albert said with a nod and a drink. "Nice scenery. Great trees for wands. Plenty of dragons. They've got a fair number of them. There's a camp of wizards who raise them. I hear they're pretty popular with the young witches in the area. I suppose they would be impressive with all the gear they wear. Witches these days like that, I guess," He gave her an odd look. "And you like dragons, don't you? I remember you looking at that story. The dragon handlers would probably fancy you. It's not common to see a red haired witch in those parts."

"My brother was a dragon handler."

For the first time since she'd seen him, Albert stopped in the middle of emptying his glass and stared at her.

"Now, I don't mean any disrespect toward your brother, but if you're looking for a wizard to settle down with, I think you'd be able to find plenty of other wizards who would take you instead," Ginny stared at him in bewildered shock, but he barely noticed. "In fact, if you're that eager to find someone, I know a fine wizard who'd be over the moon to marry you. Now, he is getting on in years, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. With you being as pretty and, er... lively as you are... Well, it wouldn't be a long marriage, but it'd be a happy one. If you'd like to meet him—"

"I'm looking for a group of wizards who wear grey cloaks," Ginny whispered.

Albert stopped talking immediately. He put down his bottle and glass and straightened his robes. "Grey cloaks, you say?" he mumbled. "Might be anyone..." He filled his glass, drank it, and then drank another. "Still, it's best if you don't go asking about them."

"Asking about who?"

Albert narrowed his eyes and glanced about the room suspiciously. "There were stories —a long time ago, when I was as young as you are now. They said there was a group of wizards who banded together to fix things. The stories said they took to wearing grey cloaks."

"Who were they?"

"It doesn't matter," he grunted. "Most decent wizards thinks they're gone. Some decent wizards are convinced they never really existed. Either way, the best you'll get by asking is a funny look. The worst is well... worse. Why are you asking?"

"Were any of them from Romania?" Ginny asked quickly. "Or France?"

Albert leaned closer and dropped his voice. "Yes, they were from Romania. And France," he answered as he drained yet another glass and laughed to himself, "—and Italy, Germany, Norway, Russia, Sweden and even Britain. If you listen to the rumors, they were spread all across Europe and Asia."

"Where did they go?"

"Why not ask where the fog goes?" he laughed. "They went just where you'd expect something which never really existed to go. Nowhere."

Ginny blinked at him in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything," he answered with a shrug. "We weren't really talking about anything, were we? You weren't asking anything and I was just babbling about old tales from my childhood. Now, how about my old, wealthy friend Pavel? He's got a wonderful castle in Poland—"

"I think I'll keep looking, thanks," Ginny interrupted. She finished the last of her butterbeer and slid off her stool. "I need to visit Gringott's. Thanks for the company."

"You're quite welcome," he replied. "I'll keep a stool open for you."

Ginny left the Leaky Cauldron feeling quite a bit more tense than she'd entered. After walking out into Diagon Alley, she found a shadowy corner where she could stand and watch for anyone who might have followed. After a minute or so, she felt confident that no one was going to follow her immediately. Of course, that might simply mean that they were already out there waiting for her.

She'd just have to take that risk. After talking with Albert, it was obvious that her suspicions were right. Whatever she'd been doing, it was drawing out even more suspicious activity. It wasn't necessarily providing explanations, but every little bit of information helped.

She'd already guessed the Ministry was following her. However, they couldn't have started until after she began working there. If they had been watching her before that, the Aurors would have known what she was planning. Whatever she was involved in now had started well before then, and she had merely stumbled right into it.

The closest link she'd found to that plot was Henri D'Anneau. He'd seemed eager —almost desperate— to tell her something, but then he left, and sent the letter she'd read that morning. With the power and friends he was rumored to have, he could have gotten a hundred other British wizards with much more influence than she had. Evelyn had said that he didn't care about Quidditch, but that made even less sense. Why else would he go through all this trouble? Would he come this far and throw away France's chance at hosting the World Cup match?

As she watched the door, she realized she already knew the answer. He would, if there was something else which could get him even more power. It was possible, but what else could that be? The wand? Could he be searching for it? Did he think that Ginny could help him find it?

Ginny forced the thought from her mind. It was pointless to waste time thinking about that right now. She would find out soon enough. There were other things she could focus on right now.

Albert had said the goblins were watching her. Sometimes goblins would come into the Leaky Cauldron, but she rarely took notice of them. By nature, they avoided mingling with wizards and did so only when there was something to be gained. So, if Albert was right, then something had convinced them that she was worth keeping an eye on.

As she walked down Diagon Alley, her mind was thinking about only one thing. George had given her a cloak which was supposed to be picked up by the goblins. It was a dusty tan, just the color that Mrs. Reading had told her to buy. The goblins would have ordered it before the Quidditch match. It could be just a coincidence, or it could be evidence that the goblins were helping wizards secretly head to Egypt.

Ginny pushed open the door and began walking across the polished marble floor toward a row of goblins sitting at counters across the hall. Before she even reached them, another goblin was trotting toward her. He looked uncharacteristically nervous.

"Yes?" he asked her, "Is there something I can help you with?"

Ginny looked down at the goblin, then at the goblins behind the counters. They were all staring at her as well. In fact, some of the goblins walking about the hall had even stopped to look at her.

"I... well, I..." she stammered. She hadn't expected this sort of reception. The goblins were always very standoffish. She'd expected it would take quite a bit to get any of them to even take notice of her.

"I need to speak to someone about my vault."

The goblin stared at her for a moment. "Of course," he finally said. "Perhaps you could speak to Grimbok in one of our private lobbies."

Ginny's eyes opened wide. There were private lobbies? She followed the goblin as he led her through a large golden door into a large room with a number of doors on every wall. He walked toward one of the doors, opened it, and motioned for Ginny to enter.

She walked in and found herself in a richly decorated room with a small forest of plants lining the walls. At one end of the room was a large desk made of solid white marble with a very formal looking goblin sitting behind it. The door behind her closed quietly, leaving her feeling distinctly awkward.

"Come. Sit down, Miss Weasley," the goblin called out. "I am Grimbok. I understand you had some questions."

Ginny walked forward warily. She'd never even knew these rooms existed, and now she'd been led to one without any real reason. She stopped in front of a chair, but didn't sit down. The whole situation felt too much like the trap she'd been trying to avoid.

"I, er... I just wanted to get forty Galleons from my vault. The Ministry should have deposited at least that by now."

Grimbok raised an eyebrow at her. "And that is all?"

"I think so."

The goblin pulled a quill from a nearby inkwell and began scratching at a piece of parchment. When he was finished, he folded it neatly, and walked to the wall behind him. He slipped the parchment into a small slot and walked back to his desk.

"Your coins will be delivered shortly," he announced. "Please, sit down. Is there anything else we might do for you this evening?"

Ginny eyed the chair suspiciously. There was another slightly farther away. She walked to it and sat down slowly. Grimbok watched her passively and waited for an answer.

The room fell into a uncomfortable silence. Something was odd here, too. The goblins were acting strangely. It was almost as if they were expecting her, or maybe it was something specific they were expecting her to do. She remembered the question she'd had when she came in. Could goblins use Legilimency? Grimbok was still looking at her expectantly. Could it hurt to ask? Ginny could feel her heart pounding.

"Gringott's recently ordered a number of cloaks from my brother's store," she finally said. "I don't suppose you know anything about that order?"

Grimbok nodded stiffly. "I do. It is not normally proper to discuss such things with wizards, but considering your relation to the shop owners, I may be able to answer some of your questions."

"How many of them were ordered?"

"I believe there were twenty-one in the last order," he said casually. "There were three shipments: one of eight cloaks, one of twelve, and one final cloak just today."

"Were any of them light tan in color?"

"Of course," Grimbok said with a nod. "But you knew that before you asked."

"Were they all the same color?"

Grimbok surveyed her carefully. "No, they were not."

Ginny paused for a moment, hoping for more information, but Grimbok said nothing more. If that's all he was going to tell her, there wasn't much point in asking anything more. And yet, it couldn't hurt. She forced herself to swallow, and pressed forward.

"Could you tell me who they were for?"

"I could tell you if you already knew," he answered cryptically.

Ginny wondered exactly what that meant. Had she already made a mistake? Would he have told her if she hadn't revealed that she didn't already know? She decided she had to take a chance.

"They were for Henri D'Anneau, weren't they?"

Grimbok frowned at the name. "I'm afraid Gringott's no longer has any business with Mr. D'Anneau."

Before Ginny had a chance to ask any more questions, a door opened out of the smooth stone wall and another goblin appeared carrying a small chest made of dark wood. He walked over to Ginny and opened it, offering her a small cloth bag. She lifted it from the chest, realizing the contents were the Galleons she'd asked for. The goblin closed the chest and quickly left, closing the door behind him and leaving no evidence that he'd ever been there at all.

"Is there anything else, Miss Weasley?" Grimbok asked as he stood and began walking to the door. Ginny frowned and followed him. It seemed that was the end of any information he might give her. When they reached the door, he paused and looked up at her.

"Henri D'Anneau is not a wizard who can be trusted," he told her. "If you must travel with him, take care and keep your wits about you. It is dangerous for you to be near him."

He escorted Ginny back out to Diagon Alley and then turned and left her without another word. She walked back toward the Leaky Cauldron. The area just outside the entrance was the only place where Disapparation was allowed. She couldn't trust using the Twins' shop, and she doubted Hermione would allow her to enter her flat.

When she Apparated across the street from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, her mind was full of speculations again. The goblins weren't helping D'Anneau. That made sense. Judging by what Ron had told her, the goblins had thwarted at least one of D'Anneau's attempts to control the position she'd been hired for. It seemed most likely that they were both trying to force the Ministry into some action. The question was: Who had won?

Once inside Grimmauld Place, Ginny found a large owl waiting for her at the window. It had a small package wrapped in parchment and addressed to her. It should be the diary she'd told George to send to her. She opened it and paged through it. Finding nothing, she tapped the back cover twice with her wand, and checked the pages again. Satisfied that the contents were still safe, she tapped the back cover again, and put the book in the cabinet where she kept her extra clothes.

The more she found out, the more certain she was that something more important was being hidden from her. It was more important than simply making money off the Quidditch World Cup. Ginny rubbed her head. She had thought hard enough that day. She needed her sleep. Tomorrow wouldn't be much better.

She would have to think of something to tell her parents. They had never bothered her for failing to return home for a night, but they would probably start worrying if she stayed away much longer. She could always tell them she'd spent the night with Hermione again. It was unlikely that Hermione would even be able to tell them it wasn't true.

Ginny lay down in one of the unused bedrooms. She was safe there. There was nothing to worry about and no one to hide from. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep.

She arrived at the Ministry early the next day. There was no white-haired wizard, no goblins, and no wizards in brown cloaks and glasses. When she reached her cubicle, all she found waiting for her were some daunting stacks of folders. Harrington was in his office, and Mrs. Reading spent the day running in and out of her office doing a variety of small tasks.

It was as if the previous two days had never happened. Were it not for the depressing number of reports and essays sitting on her desk, she might have questioned if it actually had.

Her day passed without incident. Her father stopped by to check on her sometime after noon. Ginny pretended as if nothing interesting had happened and hoped that he would not spend any more time looking into it. As the end of the day neared, she began feeling paranoid.

She stepped out of the lift and began cautiously walking toward the golden gate. She couldn't see anyone watching her. She passed into the Entrance Hall and walked toward the fountain, constantly searching the room for any bizarre behavior.

There was nothing. No one was following her. No one was even paying any attention to her. Feeling more than a little confused, she Apparated to Diagon Alley.

She found her normal table empty as usual. Nearby, the dark-bearded wizard was playing chess with an elderly witch. No one turned to watch her, and there was no sign of anyone unusual there. The only person who seemed to find any of this remarkable was Tom.

"Feels a bit quiet in here after the last two days, doesn't it?" he asked as he slid the _Daily Prophet_ toward her.

Ginny took it and saw Lord Albert sitting on his stool and passively swirling the liquid in his bottle. He gave her a smile and a nod and turned his attention back to his bottle. Ginny searched the pub again. Yesterday, it seemed like everyone was watching her every move. Now, no one even cared that she had arrived.

Instead of walking to her table, she walked over to where Albert was sitting. Without looking up from his bottle, he nudged a stool toward her and slipped a few coins onto the bar. As Ginny sat down, Tom set a cold glass of butterbeer in front of her.

"Er, thanks, Albert," she told him. "It's alright, you know. I do have a job. I can buy my own drinks."

"I'm sure you could," he laughed, "but you'd have to fish around in your pockets, wasting valuable drinking time. Tom and I have a little agreement. I pay him more than he asks, and he doesn't complain if I get a little louder than the rest of this lot. To be honest, a few Sickles is more than worth the company."

Ginny thanked him for the drink again and sat by him while he engaged a few of the other patrons in an argument about just which broom would be the best in a thunderstorm. Though he claimed to have bought the drink in return for her company, he barely seemed to notice she was there.

As they night wore on, other wizards entered and left the pub, but she and Albert stayed where they were. Eventually, the room quieted down long enough that Ginny could quietly ask Albert some questions.

"Was there anyone... watching me today?" she whispered to him.

He looked at her strangely. "No, I didn't see anyone. You didn't seem to enjoy it much yesterday. I figured you'd be happy about it."

"I guess I should be, but I don't know what changed."

"The number of people watching you, for one," he said with a smile. "Have you ever tried following a wizard? With Disapparation, the Floo system, portkeys, and all order of charms and magical objects, it can be really tiring work. I can't imagine enjoying it for much more than a night or two. The longest I've ever tailed a Hippogriff was three days. Even then, I only kept at it because he had managed to wrap my favorite scarf around his neck. I'd have just let him go, but nothing else looked right with my hat."

He emptied the glass in his hand and leaned back. "And Hippogriffs aren't nearly so tricky as wizards. It's thirsty work. I don't think I'd have the stomach to follow you about more than a day or two." He smiled and gave her a friendly pat on the back. "Give them a day or two to rest. I'm sure they're tired."

"So you think they'll come back?" she whispered.

Albert looked away for a moment, and drank another glass from his bottle. "No. Not really," he said with an apologetic expression. "To be honest, I don't really think they will." Ginny stared blankly at him.

"Oh, don't be upset, now," he said with an encouraging smile. "I know plenty of wizards who've gone their whole lives and haven't once been followed by anything more than some child who enjoyed how shiny their boots were. You've had more than your share. Best not to get greedy."

"I think Henri D'Anneau is up to something."

"I'm sure he is," Albert laughed loudly. "If what I hear is true, there hasn't been a moment since he learned to speak when he hasn't been planning something. I've seen a thousand wizards like him. Nothing new there. Though, he is worse than most, I'll grant you."

"The goblins say he's dangerous."

Albert grunted. "The goblins would dress up like Austrian barmaids and juggle wild boars if you paid them enough," he added with a laugh. He shook his head and downed another glass. "Not that I'm saying he isn't dangerous. Any wizard can be dangerous if they've got something worth fighting for. Just what that might be depends on the wizard. The Frenchman... well, I think you've already got a good idea of the luxuries he wants. So long as you keep clear of him, I don't think you'll have to give him a second thought."

"What if he's got something I want?"

"Then you'd best treat him like he's a dragon who stole your wand."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do I do that?"

Albert laughed, "Only get as close as you need to, don't turn your back on him, don't let him corner you, and if you value your life, keep an eye on his tail. " His expression became more serious and he leaned closer to Ginny. "I know loads of clever wizards who've been killed because they forgot about the tail. One of my cousins lost his arm to a Norwegian Ridgeback. I tried to warn him about its tail, but he didn't listen. Thought all he had to do was keep away from the flames, you know? Now whenever he flies on a broom he always drifts to the left."

Ginny blinked and stared back at him. "Er... thanks, I guess."


	8. Into the Fire

Chapter 8

Into the Fire

The week leading up to the World Cup conference had crept along, each day feeling little different than the last. Ginny hadn't seen even the smallest bit of evidence to suggest anyone was following her, but she still felt someone was. Harrington had stayed well away from her and Evelyn hadn't given her anything more than a spiteful glare. Even Mrs. Reading had been keeping her distance, only stopping by to check on Ginny's progress through the mountain of information.

Hermione, however, was another story entirely. Where Harrington and Mrs. Reading had merely kept themselves busy, Hermione was actively avoiding Ginny. She had resorted to somewhat extreme measures to keep from talking with her, including staying at the Ministry well into the evening and using only the lifts closest to the gate into the Entrance Hall. One evening, she had simply run away from Ginny and Disapparated as quickly as she could.

With less than one day left before she would be leaving for Egypt, Ginny had given up on trying to talk with Hermione. She was probably just trying to keep them both out of trouble. If there was any real danger, Hermione wouldn't be avoiding her. Ginny tried to convince herself of that as she paged through a series of reports of D'Anneau's actions over the last few years.

D'Anneau's past was a very odd story to read. He had been slowly climbing his way up the ranks in the French Ministry, until the news of Voldemort's fall. At that point, he seemed to suddenly appear everywhere. Whenever the French Ministry did anything, Henri D'Anneau's name was mentioned, even if it was only for some minor role.

When it had come time to select a site for the next World Cup, D'Anneau had been France's most vocal advocate. He had seemed like the logical choice to lead the delegation. Only a single witch had stood against him. For over a month, they had insulted and argued against each other. Then, quite suddenly, they had announced their engagement. They were married a week after D'Anneau had been appointed to lead the French delegation.

It sounded like a rather more abrupt version of Hermione and her brother. Nothing more was ever said about it, but Ginny wondered if D'Anneau's wife knew about her husbands activities while he was away from home. Perhaps the comparison to Ron and Hermione wasn't as valid as she first thought.

After that, he seemed to have steadily gained more and more influence. The French Minister no longer spoke to him, but other high ranking officials from all across Europe did. It sounded suspiciously similar to the rumors Albert had heard in his youth.

It all fit, now. Albert had figured it out. He knew what was happening, and that was why he wouldn't tell her any more about it. That was probably why he had been watching D'Anneau after the Quidditch match. If they were the wizards who she'd seen in the Spectrecorder, then Hermione had said they were unpredictable and not always helpful. Albert didn't seem to trust him at all.

"Reading up on Henri D'Anneau?" someone asked from behind her. Ginny turned and found Mrs. Reading standing behind her and smiling. "That's probably an excellent idea."

"Well, it still hasn't told me why he chose me," Ginny replied. "Ignoring the most superficial reasons, of course."

"Well, while we're talking about that, I wonder if you might join me in my office for a moment," Mrs. Reading asked. "There is a little matter which has come up."

Ginny followed her to her office and sat down. Mrs. Reading handed her a few rolls of parchment, one of which had a heavy Ministry seal on it. "First off, those are the documents you'll need to get into the convention area. The Egyptians have closed off a section of the city just for the World Cup delegates. You'll be allowed to come and go as you please, but I would prefer that you remain within the walls. There are Anti-Apparation wards covering the whole area and a number of security charms to keep other wizards out."

"Are they expecting problems?" Ginny asked.

Mrs. Reading frowned. "There really shouldn't be anything, but... well, the Romanian delegation will be there, and there are rumors that some of their Ministry officials have been invited as well. I'm not sure if you've read any of the news lately—"

"—I have—" Ginny interjected.

"—Right, well then you'd know that they've been having some problems. The Romanians are bringing some of their own security wizards, and they've done a good job so far, so I doubt you'll have anything to worry about. Still, there might be any number of wizards who wouldn't think twice about attacking a young witch walking about in a strange city. For your safety, we'd rather you kept to the convention area."

Ginny nodded in understanding.

"Of course, that will only protect you from the wizards outside the boundaries," Mrs. Reading said. "I'm sure you know as well as I do just what kind of wizard Henri D'Anneau is. The day we got the request, he began talking with the Egyptian Ministry about finding someplace for you to stay. Normally, attendants would stay with the country who selected them, but he felt —and I completely agree— that it would be best if you stayed somewhere outside the French camp."

She held up a roll of parchment. "This is a receipt for lodging at one of the camps which has been set up for the various officials who oversee the convention. Harrington paid for this with money from his own vault so that no one —not the French delegates, the English delegates, or even the convention officials— would know that you were staying there until the last possible moment."

"However, there has been a complication," Mrs. Reading said as she held up a second roll. "This was delivered about an hour ago. No one has seen it except the two of us. It is a note from Gringott's. They have offered to have you stay at an estate within the convention area. It's normally used as a place for their curse-breakers to stay while in the area. The goblins own it, and they have their own security."

"We don't think they know about the room Harrington set up, but if they do, there's no telling who else might know." Mrs. Reading placed the two rolls of parchment on the desk in front of Ginny. "I can't tell you which one to use. It will have to be your choice."

Ginny stared at the two rolls. She didn't know why the goblins would offer such a thing, but she knew they were no friends of Henri D'Anneau. Was he her enemy, now? Were the goblins any more trustworthy than he was?

Perhaps the choice was not a coincidence. It wouldn't be the first time that the Ministry had failed to keep a secret. D'Anneau knew about the wand. If he could learn about that, then perhaps Harrington's efforts were not as secretive as he hoped. If the goblins knew about it, then perhaps they suspected it wasn't a secret anymore, and were trying to keep her away from him.

Or perhaps they were drawing her deeper into a trap.

There was no way to know. Either of them would be better than staying in the French camp. Too many things had happened too quickly. She didn't know who to trust or where the danger truly was. She hadn't chosen wrong yet. Or had she? She stared at the two rolls, and in her stomach she knew which one she trusted more. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and reached for the roll of parchment.

With a puff of soot, Ginny Weasley rolled out of the fireplace and into a large, dimly lit room. She was immediately aware of a number of people standing nearby, some of them speaking in a foreign language. She was standing a moment later and dusting herself off. The other occupants of the room noticed her, and she flinched as a pair of them rushed toward her with their wands out.

Before she could do anything, they had cleaned and straightened her robes. They left without saying anything more, and an instant later another wizard stepped forward carrying the small traveling chest which held her clothes and other things.

"Greetings, Miss Weasley," another wizard called out. "Welcome to Giza! I'm glad you have arrived. Henri D'Anneau has been asking about you all day."

"I was told I didn't need to arrive before this evening," Ginny responded in a panicked voice.

"And you were told quite correctly," the wizard replied. He was about her father's age and almost certainly Egyptian. "I'm afraid Monsieur D'Anneau is a little anxious. He said there were some... concerns about your safety." Ginny didn't respond, but her expression was enough to confirm his statement.

"You will have no reason to worry here, Miss Weasley. You will see." The wizard gestured for her to follow, and Ginny did. They left the large room and began walking down a large corridor. Various golden statues lined the walls. As they walked, Ginny could see other corridors branching off to the sides. It was impossible to tell, but it seemed they were in some large palace.

"Where exactly are we?" she asked as they passed an empty but cavernous hall.

"We are in the largest estate in this area of the city," he answered "It is very old, very rich family. They own this building and many of the other buildings in the area. They are also strong supporters of Quidditch, which is not terribly common in these areas."

They turned a corner and started walking past a number of smaller halls which opened upon a courtyard. "The fireplace you arrived through is connected to the British and French Floo networks. You are free to use it to leave after the convention, or anytime before then if needed."

The halls they were passing now had small groups of wizards sitting in them and talking quietly. Some of them paused to stare at them as they walked by.

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked.

"You are going to meet with the French delegation, of course," the Egyptian wizard answered. "As I said, Henri D'Anneau was most eager to speak with you."

After passing only three more halls, her guide stopped and turned. He led her into a hall which looked slightly larger than the others, with large fountain at one end that reflected sunlight back into the room. A number of covered tables were scattered around the fountain, and standing around them were a number of wizards in sandy robes.

"Miss Weasley has arrived, Monsieur D'Anneau," the Egyptian announced.

At the far end of the room, one wizard stood up quickly. Even from a distance, Ginny recognized him. They Egyptian wizard bowed lightly and quickly walked off, leaving Ginny's chest by the arched doorway.

D'Anneau hurried over to her, followed by the other French delegates and a small number of other wizards. Most of them had adopted looks of passive acceptance. Some of them, however, were obviously skeptical. The young blonde delegate D'Anneau had called Sabine looked upset and was giving her a strange, almost piteous look.

"Miss Weasley!" D'Anneau greeted her merrily, "I'm so glad you finally made it. I must admit that I was beginning to worry."

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I didn't know you were expecting me earlier."

"Oh, there is nothing to apologize for," he told her with a smile. "It is nothing more than my own foolish worries." A small tremor in his voice and the slightly manic tone of his voice suggested that it was a little more than he suggested. Did he think she was in danger? The last week had been almost disturbingly quiet, but Ginny had never thought she was in any danger.

"There is much we should speak about, but there will be plenty of time for that later. First, you should meet everyone who will be helping us, then we can get your chest taken to your room. Perhaps you will wish to relax for a while before we begin working tonight." He paused and gave her a questioning look. "Am I correct in assuming you will not be staying in the French camp with us?"

"Yes, Mrs. Reading felt it would be more proper if—"

"—Of course," D'Anneau said with a reassuring smile. "As I said, it is as I expected it to be. I will have your chest sent to the Officials' Camp. It should arrive before we are finished here."

"Actually, I will be staying at the Gringott's estate at the end of the street," Ginny told him. The fact that he knew which camp Harrington had chosen had not escaped her. Equally apparent was D'Anneau's discomfort upon hearing her correction.

"But—that is not possible," he said with a forced smile. "The Gringott's estate is off limits to convention wizards," he explained. His voice was rough and stressed, as if he were on the edge of becoming angry. "Even if you were able to get a room there, how would I send you messages?"

Ginny already had the answers. The goblins would deliver messages to her from any of the French delegates, and they would see that she was notified of any changes in the convention schedule. It didn't appear to make D'Anneau feel any better, but he didn't argue with her either.

With a frown and a frustrated sigh, he stepped outside the hall for a moment, then returned and began introducing her to the rather large number of wizards gathered in the room. Ginny only recognized the other four delegates from France. The two wizards smiled and nodded politely. The elderly witch frowned at her with distaste as she shook her hand, but Sabine seemed to be in much better spirits than she had just minutes ago, and gave Ginny a faint smile as she introduced herself. Perhaps Ginny's refusal of D'Anneau's advances had some small part in that.

Most of the rest of the witches and wizards were completely new to Ginny. A few of the names sounded familiar, but when he was done, she'd found she couldn't remember any of them. Most of them were delegates from other countries who were helping France for various reasons, including a number of delegates from Norway, who had an excellent Quidditch team and no desire to face the Bulgarians on their own pitch.

There were also a number of wizards standing against the wall who were not introduced. When Ginny finally prompted D'Anneau about them, he told her not to concern herself with them.

"They are simply extra security for my other attendant," he said quietly. "He is a wizard of some importance, and they are allowed here as a favor from the Committee. I had hoped to introduce you to him, but it seems he has stepped out. You will meet him tonight, I assure you."

Taking his leave from the other wizards, he led Ginny back toward the doorway. When they reached the corridor, he gently pulled her aside. "There is much I wish to speak to you about, and not only about the World Cup," he whispered. "If we might meet in private, there are many questions which could be answered for you. There is someone you must meet."

"The grey-cloaked wizards," Ginny whispered back. "You're connected to them. I want to know how and I want you to tell me what you know about the wand."

"If you want those answers, you'll have to trust me," he hissed. "There is—"

"Excuse me, is this Genevra Weasley?"

D'Anneau and Ginny immediately turned toward the new voice. Standing only feet away from them was a tall wizard with long dark hair streaked with grey. He had a long narrow nose, dark, piercing eyes, and a short beard. To either side of him stood a pair of wizards dressed in formal robes covered with sandy brown cloaks. Behind them were three more wizards, who looked stern, threatening and completely bored. The older wizard in front seemed to pay no attention to any of them. His eyes shifted from Ginny to D'Anneau, then back to her.

"I believe I understand now why this has become so complicated," he said gravely. He stepped toward D'Anneau and spoke in a lower voice, though Ginny could still hear him clearly enough. "I warn you, Henri, as a friend and a colleague, do not allow your distractions to interfere with our business here."

D'Anneau looked almost offended. "I do not know why you would think that I would let anything get in the way—"

"I am old, Henri, but I am not blind," the old wizard said. "I can see beauty as clearly as anyone else, but age has turned my desire for such things into nothing more than the appreciation one feels for an exquisite sculpture. A similar effect is usually achieved by marriage, though you seem to have developed some immunity to it.

"I assure you, my mind is focused on the business at hand," D'Anneau replied.

"I hope you speak the truth," the old wizard said. "There is danger here if you do not mind yourself, and I will not allow you to misuse your attendant. See that I am not forced to prove my willingness to fulfill my promise." He stepped away from D'Anneau and spoke in a clearer voice. "I believe we've spoken of this quite enough. We have a guest."

He smiled warmly at Ginny, and held out his hand. Ginny reached out to shake it and found his grip firm yet softened by the weakening of old age. Something about him made him look reverent and lordly, and before she knew what she had done, she had lightly bowed her head.

"There is no need for such gestures, Miss Weasley," he said with a slight laugh. "I am no king, nor am I your superior. Today, I am merely a wizard and you a witch. Tomorrow, we will be fellow attendants and equals, and you must not be cowed by the misguided words of an old man." The corners of his mouth twitched in an almost playful smile.

"Ahh! I have completely forgotten!" he called out suddenly, startling Ginny. "It has been quite some time since I was allowed to introduce myself. Please forgive me. My name is Grigore Tarus. This is Razvan Lupescu—" he gestured to his left, "—and Stefan Buscan. They are members of the Romanian delegation and good friends of mine."

Ginny stared at them for a moment, then glanced over at Henri D'Anneau who was watching her reaction closely. Grigore Tarus was the Romanian Minister. Had D'Anneau chosen her simply because she had shown interest in him? He did not look at all to be the haunted wizard D'Anneau had described during the Quidditch match. He felt more like someone's grandfather. The only thing that hinted at any truth in D'Anneau's description were the stern looking wizards standing behind Tarus.

He noticed her eyes looking at them, and his smile fell. "Ah, yes. My three assistants are here to see after my safety. There have been a number of mishaps lately, and some people have gotten nervous. Were it not for them, I might suggest you stay with me in my camp. As it is now, it may not be the wisest choice. You may still wish to stay outside the French camp. History suggests that it will be busy at all hours of the day, and noisy during most."

"She has already made alternate arrangements," D'Anneau interjected. "She will be staying at the Gringott's estate."

"Will she?" Tarus laughed. "I have not heard that goblins make gracious hosts, yet they will undoubtedly be quieter ones. That will not be too much of a hardship will it, Henri?"

"Arrangements have already been made," D'Anneau replied. "It will be acceptable."

"Yes, I assume it will. What reason would you have to care where she stayed? Very well," Tarus said as he clapped D'Anneau on the back. "Come, Henri. I must speak with you about these Spaniards. They may be much more helpful than we expected. As for you," he said, addressing Ginny, "you may continue down this corridor to the main gate. Someone there will direct you to the estate."

Ginny followed his directions and allowed a young Egyptian wizard to lead her down the wide street to the Gringott's estate. On either side of the street were small buildings made out of pale masonry and occasionally surrounded by colorful tents and canopies. Many of the buildings had flags hung over the doorways or flying from poles on the roofs.

As Tarus has suggested, the French camp was rather busy. A number of wizards were standing in front of the main building. Some looked bored or impatient, while others seemed to be enjoying their wait. Ginny wondered what they were gathering for. Her guide told her that the Bulgarian camp at the other end of the street was even busier.

Not far from the French camp, there was an alley which split from the main road. An assortment of wizards were standing silently across the alleyway. Ginny paused and asked her guide what it was.

"There is a small estate at the end of the alley where the Romanian Minister is staying. The Committee has decided to allow him to have private quarters though he is not a delegate," he said quietly. "They've also permitted him to bring his own security wizards. Many wizards didn't want him to come. He's cursed, they say. They are afraid his presence will endanger the people here."

Across from the alley leading to the Romanian camp was the camp where Harrington had intended her to stay. The Gringott's estate was still not in sight. Ginny started to wonder if she'd made the wrong choice. She would have been perfectly safe staying there, and could have saved herself quite a bit of walking.

When she finally reached the estate, she found a message from D'Anneau already waiting for her. There was to be a meeting that night to discuss the activities for the next day. Officially, the convention had only one purpose: a vote. Unofficially, it was the last opportunity for the candidate countries to convince others to support them.

This was not the first vote, and if a suitable number of votes couldn't be collected by either the French or the Bulgarians tomorrow, then a third convention would be called. Both countries were doing everything they could to avoid that. Ginny still didn't know just what D'Anneau had planned for her, but she did feel a little less concerned in his presence.

The goblins truly were not outstanding hosts. At best they were indifferent to her, and most of them seemed to merely tolerate her presence. They were, however, rather businesslike and efficient. One of them showed her to her room, which was clean and very tidy. Her chest was waiting for her at the foot of the bed and her room was almost eerily quiet. She fetched a set of folders from the chest and sat down at a small desk near the window.

As she paged through the stack of parchment, she frowned. Why had no one told her the other attendant would be Grigore Tarus? No one had even thought of checking on such things. Evelyn had given her everything she had on D'Anneau and France, but she couldn't remember seeing anything about Tarus or Romania. What was he doing here? Was it all D'Anneau's doing? Did he have so much power that Ministers from other countries were doing him favors? She had a few hours to pour over the files again. There must be something to help explain what D'Anneau was trying to accomplish.

That evening, Ginny returned to the French camp. She joined a number of other wizards in a spacious courtyard around a large table laden with food. For an hour or more they all simply ate and discussed various topics Ginny knew nothing of. Out of courtesy toward Ginny and Tarus, the French wizards spoke in accented English. Tarus spoke English quite well, but it seemed he also spoke French. For all that Ginny could understand of their discussions of demands and agreements, they might as well have simply saved themselves the trouble and used their native language.

When the meal was over, they all quickly vanished the plates and food and moved into a smaller room. Once the door was closed, they all began speaking of things that Ginny knew a little more about. The Norwegian wizards, who had all voted for France the last time, were confident they could convince the Danes and Dutch to vote with them. If that would happen, it would give France more votes than Bulgaria. Tarus offered to visit the Dutch and Danish delegations and ensure the agreement.

Most of the French delegates were focusing on keeping all the votes they'd received the last time. There was little worry at the moment, since more and more countries were becoming wary of the number and type of allies Bulgaria was gathering. The Germans had agreed to support them in exchange for some special training methods the Bulgarians used. There was something useful there. Ginny silently took note of it and listened for any more information.

Finally, the conversation shifted to the British delegation. She had been right. It was going to be her responsibility to speak to the British delegation. The other delegates seemed much more uncertain of her abilities than D'Anneau. Ginny wondered if he really believed in her, or if he simply needed her to speak with them so he could work out some other deal.

No matter how much they talked and planned, it never really appeared that D'Anneau had any real passion for the World Cup. It was simply an obstacle in his path, or a chore he must complete while working on some bigger plan. Ginny wondered where she fit into that plan. Would it be worth the price she'd have to play?

The meeting continued on well into the night as the other wizards made plans for all possible outcomes. Ginny listened only when her name was mentioned. It became clear that little more would be expected of her. She had been brought for one job and nothing else. Why would D'Anneau risk all of that work on an assistant from a foreign Ministry who'd only been working for a few weeks? Did he know something he wasn't telling her?

Or had he never expected her to succeed?

Ginny felt a chill run down her spine. After she'd turned him down, he'd acted strangely around her. Could it be anger? Or resentment? What if he didn't want her to succeed? What he had never planned to succeed? He could blame her for the failure. After everything else that had happened, she would be lucky if she was only left without a job.

Could Henri D'Anneau be that spiteful? Or petty? When the meeting was over, Ginny waited by the doorway in an attempt to speak to D'Anneau alone. He seemed to sense her intentions and ushered everyone else out of the room. As Grigore Tarus walked out the door, he shot a warning glance at the two of them.

When the last wizard had left, D'Anneau gently shut the door. Ginny looked up and gave him the most intimidating glare she could. He got the hint and backed off.

"What are you playing at?" she hissed. "You had to choose two people to help you, and you picked the Minister of Romania and _me_? He's going to get you almost all the votes you'll need, and I'm going to have a chat with the British delegates, who haven't changed their minds in months." She stalked toward him, trying not to let her expression break. "I didn't ask for this. If you think you can keep me around to blame me for anything that happens—"

"No, no," D'Anneau interrupted urgently. "Even if we were to fail, who could blame you? You simply responded to a request from my government."

"A request from your _Minister_," Ginny added. "Is that it? You want to blame him?"

"Of course not. I want to be able to watch the Quidditch World Cup in my home country."

"You've never liked Quidditch," Ginny shot back.

"Perhaps not, but I would very much like to sit at that match. I would make it a glorious celebration of peace and prosperity. Wizards from across Europe could gather and enjoy the wonder of France. And I will be the wizard who made it happen."

"And if you fail, it will be the Minister's fault, not your own."

D'Anneau's mouth twitched into a smile. "I have never enjoyed gambling with my own future, Ginny. I have not gotten where I am by taking risks. Not when I cannot control those who must make the decisions."

"So that's all it is?" Ginny said with a bitter laugh. "Fame and power? More influence, more money, more young witches swooning at your feet?" Her stomach was knotted and tight. Her heart told her to leave that night and tell everyone what he had just said, but she knew no one would take her word over his, and even if they did, it wouldn't matter. He could still ruin her.

"I'll help you," she said in a strained voice. "I _will_ convince them, but in return, I want something from you."

"You shall have it," D'Anneau said excitedly. "There are powerful wizards I can introduce you to. There were many of them here tonight. Their friendships are worth more than you could ask—"

"I don't care about any of that," Ginny snapped. "I want something else."

A worried look flashed across D'Anneau's face. "Name it, and I will do what I can."

"The grey-cloaked wizards. I want to speak with them."

For a moment, D'Anneau simply stared at her thoughtfully. Then he nodded and smiled. "Join me for dinner tomorrow night," he said in a silky voice. "It is customary for delegates to meet the night before the vote. I will send a message to the goblins. Anyone who is watching will only see the head of the French delegation summoning his attendant. So long as you attempt your task in good faith, I will see that you get what you ask for, and more."

Ginny nodded and without another word, she walked to the door and left the room. She never turned to see if he was following her, and no one in the camp stopped her on her way back to the street. Once she reached the street, she took out her cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. The night air was colder than she had expected. She stopped only once to see if she was being followed. Seeing nothing, she pulled her hood over her head and continued down the street, trying to work out just what she would need to do the next day.

The next day, she was stopped as she left the Gringott's estate for her meeting with the British delegates. She had spent the entire morning reading over more of the folders in her chest, and was shocked to find three wizards in golden robes waiting for her outside the door.

"Is something wrong?"

"Good afternoon Miss Weasley," one of them said with a strong Egyptian accent. "I am terribly sorry, but we have a few questions for you."

Ginny cautiously agreed to answer their questions. They asked her about what she had seen the night before when she returned to the estate. She told them everything she had seen, which was very little. After only a few questions, they gave each other disappointed looks and told her she could go on her way.

"Was there something I was supposed to see?" she asked before leaving.

"Perhaps nothing," said the one who appeared to be their leader. "We think a shop near the Romanian camp was robbed last night. The Romanian Minister retired early and saw nothing. We heard you had returned here later, and we hoped you might have seen something on your journey."

"No, I— I'm afraid I was concentrating on other things," she told them. "Was anyone hurt, or—"

"No," the head wizard said quickly. "No one even knew it had happened until this morning."

"What was stolen?"

The wizard looked at her strangely. "Wands. Just fifteen wands, but it was all the wands the shop had. You're certain you didn't see anything?"

Ginny answered again that she had not, but as she walked away, she wondered just what the significance of the theft could mean. Who would want fifteen wands? As she tried to think of a reason, she noticed something much more important. Beyond the normal number of wizards milling about in the street, there were a small number of other wizards leaning against walls or sitting by fountains. Their cloaks were just a little too similar, and they all seemed to be looking about with the same distracted, impatient manner.

They were extra guards. They were looking for something. They were looking for thieves who'd stolen wands. The similarity to the Ministry attack was too obvious to ignore. Could it be the same thief? Why would he want fifteen random wands? Was he going to try and hide Voldemort's wand in with the others? Why would he bring it there?

She was awoken from her thoughts by the sight of the alley leading to the Romanian camp. There were even more wizards there now, twelve that she could see. Certainly that was more than necessary.

The French camp had just as many guards, but they seemed to be in better spirits. As she walked up, one of them shook her hand and led her into the French camp where she was to meet with the British delegates. As she walked down a narrow corridor, one of the other French delegates informed her that Tarus was finishing up with the Dutch and would be joining her shortly.

She walked into the small room and thanked the guard as he closed the door behind her. Sitting behind a polished wooden table were the five British delegates. Ginny sat down across from them and concentrated on hiding her anxiety.

"Good afternoon," she said loudly, hoping it would hide the shakiness of her voice. "I suppose I should start off by asking you what reasons you have for not wanting the World Cup to be played in France. It can't be because of the inconvenience of travel, so let's—"

"Hold on," the wizard in the center said. "We've already spoken to D'Anneau and a dozen other wizards about this. Last night, we got a message saying that he wants to speak to us _again_ and now that we're here, all he sends is _you_?" He sat back with a scowl on his face. "Is he that daft? Does he think that if he sits some young, attractive witch with long, red-hair and a pretty smile in front of us that we'll all suddenly see things his way?

"I doubt he expected that," Ginny said in an even voice.

"What are you going to do? Just give us sweet looks until we change our minds?"

"Wait a minute," said another. "You're not a Weasley are you?"

"Blimey, you're right," agreed the youngest of the wizards. "You think we'll listen to you because you're that Weasley bloke's sister? I've seen worse, but I can't say you'll get much respect by mentioning his name."

Ginny felt her face coloring. "I work for the Ministry, in the Department of International Magical Cooperation—"

"Oh, the Ministry, is it? We work for the Ministry, too, you know!"

"—and I was hired to handle affairs involving Quidditch—"

"It's more likely you were hired to roll parchment, but you were the best that D'Anneau could convince to join him."

"I think you should hear me out," Ginny said raising her voice over the commotion.

The wizard in the middle of the table held up his hand to try and silence his colleagues. "I think we heard quite enough the first four times we went through this. Has anything changed? Does D'Anneau have even the smallest care for the sport when he can't use it to get him something else? Has he spent even a few hours learning the history of Quidditch?" The head of the delegation was raising his voice as well. Ginny tried to respond, but he began talking over her.

"How can you sit here and help him? Your brother plays Quidditch. You claim to enjoy Quidditch. You seem like a clever witch. How can you not see that he's just using you, and doing a bloody horrible job at it? How much has he paid you? What could he have promised—"

Behind Ginny, the door swung open with a piercing squeal. Ginny didn't turn to see who it was, but the entire British delegation was frozen in surprise.

"Miss Weasley, is everything alright?"

Ginny kept focused on the wizard in front of her. Her heart was pounding in her ears and it took all her will to keep from shouting at him. She didn't need to turn around to know who was there. Grigore Tarus's voice was both distinctive and commanding enough to leave little doubt.

"No," she said clearly.

"I see," Tarus said. "Is there—"

"The answer to his question," Ginny growled, "is _no_."

The wizard ahead of her gave her a confused look. "Pardon? I don't remember which—"

"D'Anneau has never cared for Quidditch," she snapped. "He's never spent any time learning about the players or history of Quidditch, and I doubt he's even had an ounce of enjoyment watching it. He's a _politician_."

The delegates stared at her in shock, but Tarus was unfazed. He walked over beside her and gently tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me, Miss Weasley. Perhaps we could discuss some—"

"In a moment," she snapped, surprising both the delegates and the Romanian Minister. She slowly stood up in her seat and glared at the head of the British delegation.

"Henri D'Anneau is just a politician. He is doing what politicians do. He's using political power to gain the favor of his people. But what are the Bulgarians doing? They're selling their power on the Quidditch pitch for political influence!"

She looked at the witch and wizard to her right. They were both former Quidditch players. "Is that so much better? Is that the true spirit of Quidditch? Are you willing to let political issues like the handling to magical creatures or the importation of dangerous poisons be decided by the wizards who have the best Seeker? Speak up if you do, because I don't think you remember just how mediocre ours is!"

Ginny stopped and took a deep breath. The room was completely silent. The British delegates were all looking at each other as if they were sharing some silent conversation.

"I see there is much we need to discuss," said the wizard in front of Ginny. "I'm afraid there will be no time to meet with you again, but I believe I understand your point of view now."

Ginny nodded weakly and sat down in her chair. The British delegates rose slowly and began filing out of the room. When they were all gone, Tarus sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of the table.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she apologized.

"I'm sorry I interrupted you," he replied with a laugh. It felt reassuring to hear it echoing in the small room.

"Did I ruin everything?" she asked. "I tried, I swear. I had it all planned out, but they just didn't want to hear any of it. I don't know—"

"I think you did exceedingly well," Tarus laughed again. "I spent hours with the Dutch, and you have given us the votes we needed in only minutes."

"You think so?" Ginny asked.

"I think they were expecting something a little more diplomatic, but I suspect nothing would have worked better than what you just did."

Ginny leaned forward and put her head on the table. She felt like she was going to be sick. What had she done? Tarus seemed to think she had just changed their minds. If he was right, then she had done her part. Even if France didn't win, D'Anneau couldn't say she hadn't done what he asked. He'd have to keep his end of the deal.

Her nausea slowly melted back to the uncomfortable flutterings of anxiety and anticipation. She had done it. In only a few more hours, Henri D'Anneau would help her get the answers she desired so desperately.

Ginny paced about the small room waiting for the message D'Anneau had promised to send. The later it got the more anxious she became. What could he be waiting for? The shield cloak she gotten from Fred and George was lying on the bed. She had checked the placement of her wand in her robe pockets at least twenty times. She had even stuffed some parchment and a self-inking quill into her pocket in case she might need to write something.

She walked over to the window and stared out over the city. There were torches being lit all along the street and the tops of the buildings. It almost looked like there was a party planned. Perhaps there was. As she watched torches being lit on yet another building, she heard sharp knock at her door. She ran to the door and found a rather bored looking goblin looking up at her.

"There are three wizards waiting for you outside," he croaked. "They say they were sent to escort you to a meeting."

Ginny pulled her cloak from the bed and strode out of the room. From the top of the stairs she could see the three wizards standing at the doorway arguing with five goblins. As soon as they saw her, they relaxed a little and waited for her to join them. The goblins gave both her and the wizards disgruntled glares and closed the doors behind them.

As they walked out into the street, Ginny noticed that despite the torchlight, the street felt abnormally quiet and empty. The three wizards had formed something of a triangle around her, with one leading and two walking closely to either side of her. Their pace was fairly quick and they were watching the few other wizards passing them.

"What's going on?" she asked, as her paranoia began turning into genuine concern. "Why am I being escorted?"

"It's a formality," the one to her left answered.

"It's a formality which wasn't needed six hours ago," Ginny countered.

"There was an incident this evening."

After so much experience, Ginny could tell when she wasn't being told something important. "What kind of incident?" she pressed.

"It's nothing to worry about. You're in no danger."

"If I'm in no danger, then why do I need an escort?"

"The Head of the World Cup Committee has declared it necessary until the cause of the attack can be determined."

Ginny stopped, forcing her escorts to stop as well. "You said it was an _incident_. Now it's an _attack_? What is going—"

"_Quiet!_" hissed the wizard in front of her. He gestured emphatically for them to move out of the center of the street, and Ginny did as he directed.

From the shadows, she watched as one pair of wizards ran down the street ahead of them. A second pair could be seen running between the torches on top of a nearby building. As she watched, faint flashes of light reflected off the brightly colored tents. She could hear the faint sound of stone crumbling and then a series of shouts as a group of wizards came running around the corner.

When they had covered half the distance to where Ginny and her escorts stood they slowed to a quick walk and called out to them. She followed the three wizards as they met up with the group ahead of them. Only the one in front of Ginny walked forward to speak with them. The others held back. Ginny turned her head slightly to listen to what they were saying.

"Is it clear?" her escort asked.

"We think so," a tall wizard responded. "They were there, but they're gone now. They didn't put up much of a fight. We think they're headed toward the palace."

"And the Committee?"

"They are all safe in their camp."

"Very well," said the wizard in front of her. "We are almost there."

Ginny looked around, and found she could just barely make out the alley which led to the Romanian camp. Just as there was earlier that day, a number of wizards guarded the entrance. Her escorts were guiding her directly toward them.

"Hold on," she complained. "I'm supposed to be going to the French camp. I need to speak with Henri D'Anneau."

"There has been a change in plans," the leader replied flatly.

They were already at the entrance to the alley. As they approached, wizards slipped from the shadows to surround them. One of them walked directly toward her. He was young, with short brown hair and light blue eyes.

"This is her?" he asked Ginny's escorts.

"That's right. We brought her here as quickly as we could."

"Any troubles?"

"No. We stopped for a moment, but there weren't any problems."

"Very well," he said stiffly. He turned and gave Ginny a courteous smile. "Good evening, Miss Weasley. If you would just follow me—"

"No," she said firmly. "I need you to take me to the French camp. I must speak with Henri D'Anneau." She was so close. She could see the French camp from where she stood. Why had they been sent, if not to take her there?

"I'm afraid that will not be possible," the young wizard said.

"Why not?"

"Henri D'Anneau is dead."

A cold chill swept through Ginny's body. The world swirled about her for a moment. It couldn't be. She felt a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead.

"No," she choked. "He can't be dead! He can't... not yet... I was—" Her voice was cut off as her throat tightened. She felt herself shivering in shock and anger. He couldn't die. Not yet. Hot tears were welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She had been so close. She'd made a deal and done her part. All she wanted were answers. She deserved at least that.

The other wizards were simply watching her. They didn't know how difficult it had been to make this happen. They didn't know how many hours she'd spent trying to figure out how she was supposed to find wizards who weren't even supposed to exist. They didn't know the trouble she'd caused for her friends and family or the dangers she'd put herself in. All they saw was a little girl crying over the death of one of the most loathsome wizards around.

She'd worked so hard. All she'd needed was for D'Anneau to tell her where to find the rest of the grey-cloaked wizards. Now he'd been murdered hours before he was going to tell her.

A second chill struck her. Could it really be a coincidence? What if he was killed because of what he was about to tell her? Who would want to do that? Who could even know that he was going to do it? Ginny looked up suddenly and surveyed her surroundings.

She was completely surrounded by wizards. The street was almost completely empty, and it was much darker in the area around her. Unlike nearly every other part of the street, there were no torches lit in the alley.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked suspiciously.

"We had orders to bring you here so that—"

"_Who_ ordered you to bring me here?"

"Grigore Tarus," the young guard answered firmly. "When he heard the news he sent for you immediately. He sent six of his personal guards to fetch you."

"There were only three."

"You only saw three," he corrected her. "We are well trained at our jobs." When Ginny did not challenge him again, he continued. "The Minister is deeply concerned. He wished to see you as quickly as we could bring you here. Will you speak with him?"

Ginny didn't know what to say. Could she trust them? Could she trust anyone? Reluctantly, she nodded and allowed the young wizard and no less than five others to guide her down the dark street toward the large domed estate at the end of the alley. Halfway between them was a large decorated arch which spanned the alley. In the shadows underneath it, another guard was watching them by a torch. As they approached it, the young guard fell back and began walking closely by Ginny's side.

"Put up your hood," he hissed at her. She opened her mouth to ask why, but he gestured for her to remain silent. "Do it," he commanded.

Ginny did as she was told. She pulled her hood over her head and kept walking. To her left, Ginny saw an abandoned shop. In the window was an assortment of magical items being sold. Standing conspicuously in the center of the display was a large case labeled in many languages. Halfway down the list, she read _Quality Imported Wands_. It was empty. It must have been the shop which had been robbed.

When she looked ahead again, she found they were just passing under the arch. From the deep shadows opposite the torch, a pair of cloaked wizards were walking toward her quickly, one tall and one much shorter. The young guard nodded to them and grabbed Ginny's shoulders firmly and quickly pulled her toward them. None of the other wizards reacted, they simply kept walking.

Ginny struggled and wrenched an arm free of his grip long enough to pull her wand from her robe pocket. She was quickly dragged past the two new wizards and pressed up against the far wall of the arch. She tried to scream, but he had already pressed his hand over her mouth. Ginny slowly bent her arm to point her wand at the guard's stomach. It wouldn't take much. Just a simple non-verbal spell when he wasn't looking and she would be free. Just then she realized that he was already looking away.

He was looking over his shoulder and watching the group of wizards as they emerged from under the arch. The shorter of the two wizards had taken her place, wearing a similarly colored cloak.

"Keep quiet and follow me," the guard whispered into her ear. "I apologize, but it was necessary." He looked about the alley one last time, then pulled Ginny around a corner and into a narrow space between two buildings made of crumbling masonry. He remained at the opening to the alley, scanning the alley. When he finally turned back, he found Ginny's wand pointed at his chest.

"Take me back to the Gringott's Estate," she ordered him.

"If you demand it, I will see that you are returned there safely and immediately," the guard replied slowly, "but understand that you alone will be responsible for anything that might happen afterward."

"The others said I wasn't in any danger," Ginny snapped without lowering her wand.

"And that is still true," he whispered, "—for now. The danger lies not in your company or location, but in the course of events that you will set in motion. I am sorry for the deception. It is important that you appear to go to the estate at the end of the alley, and it was not safe to explain our plan to you."

"It wasn't safe?" Ginny whispered, though she didn't know why. "If I'm in no danger, whose safety are you worried about?"

The guard looked at her as if she had asked him the color of the night sky. "The safety of Grigore Tarus. Were you not listening? There have been numerous attacks in our country. Do they not report such things in London? I am one of the Minister's personal guards, and I cannot risk his safety."

Perhaps he was telling the truth. Perhaps she could convince Tarus to help her. He might know as much as D'Anneau had. If her guess was right, the grey-cloaked wizards had been trying to help him. At the very least, he might be able to tell her where to continue looking. She lowered her wand.

"Where do we go?"

The guard smiled and walked toward her. "Truth is not always found in the light," he said in a low voice. "Sometimes, the answers to our questions are found only in the dark." He raised his arm and pointed into the inky blackness farther from the opening.

Ginny scowled at him. "I'm in no mood for riddles."

"I pose no riddles," the guard replied. "You asked where to go, and I have told you."

Ginny frowned and turned to walk into the darkness. After only a short distance, she walked under a stone ceiling and it became impossible to see anything at all. Ginny lit her wand and looked down the narrow pathway. The plaster was crumbling off the brickwork on either side of her, but there were no doorways or breaks in the wall. Some twenty feet ahead, the narrow path ended abruptly in a stone wall.

"Put away your light," whispered the guard. "Look with your eyes, not your wand."

Ginny extinguished her wand, and squinted into the black. After some time, she thought she began to see faint shapes. Only a few feet ahead of her was a patch of wall which was darker than the rest of it. She walked closer and reached out to touch it.

There was no wall there.

She searched more and found the edges of a doorway recessed into the wall. It hadn't been there when she'd been shining light at it, but she was now standing in it. There was a rough wooden door with a heavy iron handle. She turned it and pushed on the door. It opened silently. The guard followed her through the door, and closed it behind her.

The moment the door closed, a number of lamps around the room flickered to life bathing the two of them in a warm glow. They were standing in something of an old storeroom. Huge barrels were stacked along with wall, labeled with writing Ginny could not read.

"Come," the guard said gently. "We have taken longer than I expected. Tarus will be anxious to see you."

Ginny followed him through another room cluttered with cabinets, fireplaces and stoves, and eventually into a brightly lit room. A large staircase was wrapped around three of the walls, and underneath it was a bar stocked with a bottles of all sizes and colors. The fourth wall had a wide door flanked with two large windows. He had taken her to an abandoned pub. The tables had all been stacked under the staircase, and the windows had been covered.

Sitting alone at a large table in the center of the room was Grigore Tarus. He didn't look as cheerful as he had earlier that day, and he had yet to react to her appearance. The guard led her toward the table and pulled out a chair for her to sit on.

"Thank you, Josef," Tarus said. "We will need some time alone. I will call for you when we are done."

The guard bowed politely to Ginny and then walked back out of the room through the door they had entered, leaving Ginny sitting alone with Grigore Tarus. It felt like they had been sitting there for hours, silently staring at each other, when Tarus finally spoke.

"I expect you have many questions about what has happened," he said in a tired voice. "Most of these I can answer. I understand you had many other questions for Henri. Without knowing what you will ask, I cannot say how much I might be able to tell you, but I will do what I can, given my current problems. Where shall we start?"

A hundred questions had been lurking in her mind over the past hour, but none of them felt as urgent as learning about her current situation and the danger she was —or wasn't— in.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Tarus sighed. "I was afraid of the consequences of leaving you where you were. Without D'Anneau —without the answers he would have given you— I was afraid of what you might do."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ginny asked. "What do you think I would do?"

"Henri D'Anneau is not the only one who can give you the answers you seek. Though, from other wizards, that information would have cost you much more."

"Is that why he was killed? So that I would be forced to look somewhere else?"

"Henri was a loyal colleague, but he was also an arrogant, greedy fool. He has made enough enemies to fill this room. I know you are not unfamiliar with his appetites. His petty transgressions and heedless actions have created petty enemies who are similarly heedless of their actions. Tonight, his previous luck failed him. He was found with the daughter of a very powerful Egyptian wizard from an honorable family."

Tarus rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "A group of wizards learned of what he had done and stormed the French camp looking for restitution. They confronted Henri and the girl in a corridor. He foolishly attacked them. It appears the girl was killed during the fighting. I would guess that only enraged his attackers, and they killed him."

The old wizard took a deep breath, and continued, "The noise attracted the attention of a number of guests in the courtyard. They assumed the camp was being attacked, and fought back. Another French delegate was killed, along with—" he paused to give her a sympathetic look, "—along with the head of the British delegation."

Ginny tried to ignore her shock at the death of the British wizard and focused on her question. "So that was it? It's just a coincidence that it happened now, just before we were supposed to meet?"

"I didn't say that," replied Tarus. "I said that was why he was killed. There is still the question of how anyone would discover what he had been doing. It does not seem above the Bulgarians to reveal such a thing in an attempt to discredit Henri, and yes, it is very possible that someone did it to prevent you from learning anything from him."

Ginny didn't say anything in response. She just frowned and stared at the covered windows. No matter what Tarus thought, Ginny was certain that he'd been killed to keep her from discovering something. Perhaps there was still a way.

"Who are the grey-cloaked wizards?" Ginny asked him.

Tarus frowned and stared at her. "The grey-cloaked wizards? I don't think I know what you're talking about? Where did you see them?"

How much could she say? D'Anneau had known about it. Charlie had been there, and she had assumed that Charlie had found them in Romania. She had just assumed that Tarus would know what she was talking about.

"I didn't really see them," she explained carefully, "but I know they were at the British Ministry the day—"

"—The day your brother died?" Tarus finished for her. She just stared at him in surprise. "Yes, I do know of the wizards you speak of, and I do know of your brother. He showed great bravery in doing what he did. It takes quite a bit of strength to take on such a task alone."

"But he found the grey-cloaked wizards, and they helped him. Would they help me?"

"The Brotherhood helps whoever serves their purpose at the time. They are not a force that can be wielded at will. They can be treacherous. Had your brother survived the events of that day, he wouldn't have found the Brotherhood nearly as willing to protect him from the Death Eaters."

"The Brotherhood," Ginny repeated, glad to have a proper name for the wizards she'd been searching for. "Are they the reason why you're hiding?"

"Are they the reason..." Tarus repeated thoughtfully. "In a way, they are. But I do not fear them," he said. "My trouble lies in a group of wizards who's behavior is sadly much more reliable."

"Why hide, though? Why keep it secret?" Ginny asked. "Why not tell others? Why not fight back?"

The Minister smiled at her and leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps you would understand if I explained it a different way. Your brother was a dragon handler. I explained it to him in a similar manner. You may find it even easier to understand than he did.

"Long ago, before dragon handlers had any formal training, wizards relied upon much cruder methods for capturing dragons. The dragons in my country were well known for attacking the goats and sheep of small farms. The younger dragons kept away from wizards, but the older, more powerful dragons were bolder and ranged across much more land.

"If one of them became too aggressive or caused too many problems, the local wizards would band together to capture it. Capturing a dragon is not an easy task, but necessity is a strong motivator. They would find something the dragon would take, usually a goat or some other animal. They would cast a powerful curse on it which would petrify the dragon when it touched the thing. They would then hide nearby and wait.

"Sometimes it would take only an hour. Sometimes it would take weeks. Eventually, the dragon would take the bait and be struck with the curse. It would never fully petrify the dragon. Usually it would paralyze a leg and some portion of its wing —just enough to keep it from escaping. The wizards would gather around it and subdue it.

"It was a dangerous and violent process, often killing wizards and starting horrible fires in the forests. Respectable wizards no longer use such methods. Dragons do not enjoy being trapped. They struggle and fight, even when facing overwhelming odds. Yet some wizards, those who care little for the world around and only about their own desires, find such methods easier than trying to try more reasonable approaches."

Ginny felt slightly confused. "I don't think I understand," she told him. "If you think someone is trying to trap you, then why not announce it to the world?"

"For the same reason that the ensnared dragon does not roar. If it were to call out to the skies, other dragons may come, and what would become of them? The wizards would sense the attack and kill them all."

"Just like the wizards who attacked Henri D'Anneau," Ginny commented.

"Correct. Henri did not perceive the trap that had been set about him. He decided to fight, and behold the result. He was clever and shrewd, but he was never a powerful wizard. Imagine the consequences if something similar were to happen with a stronger wizard... or a stronger witch."

Ginny's eyes darted toward Tarus's face. "Who are we talking about now? You, or me?"

Tarus smiled. "In nature, there are often two answers to any question."

"Both of us, then?"

"Is it so surprising?" Tarus asked. "You must have sensed something of the trap set about you. You meant to ask Henri about it tonight. He would have given you the answers you wanted, and the trap would have sprung before it had been prepared. When plans fail, wizards become irrational and unpredictable. I do not know what would have happened, but I feared for your safety. That is why I was forced to come here."

"You came here because of me?"

Tarus nodded gravely. "Your brother's death was a horrible tragedy. He was a great wizard, as are you. I promised him I would do all that I could to see that you were protected from this. He feared for his family, but you most of all." Tarus stared down at his hands for a moment, staring at his fingers as they opened and closed into a fist. "I have done what I said I would, and I have only barely avoided being caught in a snare of my own."

"Who is doing this?" Ginny asked. "Is it this Brotherhood? All I wanted from them is information."

"No, no," Tarus answered. "For now, they have no reason to attack you. There are many wizards who pose a greater threat to you, but there is still hope," he said. He sat up and looked into Ginny's eyes. "There may come a time very soon when I will need your help. You supported Dumbledore when he stood against Lord Voldemort. Will you help me?"

Ginny stared back at him for some time. What was he asking? Was there another Dark Lord? Voldemort couldn't have come back. He was gone. They were both gone. Weren't they? A heavy silence fell in the room. If another Dark Wizard was gaining power, Voldemort's wand would be a potent symbol of his power. Ginny remembered the thief from the Ministry. He had moved with the confidence she remembered of a young Tom Riddle. If he was going to try and follow the same path, she would stand in his way.

Ginny looked up, and was about to reply, but stopped when she heard muffled shouts coming from outside. Tarus held up his hand, signaling for her to remain quiet. The shouts got louder. One rang out louder than the rest.

"_HALT!_"

A number of voices shouted in response and a faint flash lit up the cracks around the door and windows. Wizards must have broken into the alley. Tarus understood this as well. He slowly stood up and quietly pushed his chair back.

"You must go," he whispered. "Do not worry about me. You must leave. Return to London as quickly as you can."

Even as Ginny stood up, she heard a creak as the handle of the door began to turn. It didn't open, and an instant later, the door shook violently. Ginny pulled her wand and began backing toward the door to the kitchen. There was an eerie silence as she waited for some sign that the danger had not passed.

Suddenly, the door shattered and tumbled to the floor in splinters. A pair of wizards slipped into the main room, but one of them dropped a second later when a red beam struck him in the chest. Tarus leaped behind the table as another pair of wizards jumped through the door. Ginny raised her wand.

"_Stupefy!_"

Another red beam of light lanced through the dim room and struck one of the wizards. As he fell, Ginny realized that they were not wearing the same sandy colored robes everyone else had been. They were instead a dusty grey.

"He's here!" one of them shouted.

"_Go!_" Tarus shouted as he ran for a small door behind the bar.

Ginny turned and ran through the door and into the kitchen. Should she try to find Tarus? Did he know another way out or was he just trying to distract them? It didn't matter. She could only find two doors. One led back to the main room, the other led to the storeroom and the entrance she'd used to get in.

"_Where did the girl go?_" a voice shouted. "Go! Block off the exits and find her!" Seconds later, she heard the sounds of heavy boots walking quickly toward the doorway.

Needing no other encouragement, Ginny ducked and ran for the storeroom. As she entered, the lamps flared to life, sending a shaft of warm light into the kitchen. She grabbed the door and slammed it shut. She ran to the far wall, but found that there was no door.

She began to panic. It _had_ been this room. There was no other room for her to run to. Where was the door? Then, seizing on the only idea she had, she pointed her wand at one of the lamps.

"_Finite Incantatem!_"

The lamp faded, but nothing else happened. She wanted to scream. The footsteps were very close now. They would reach the door in just seconds. She jabbed her wand at the door and locked it just as someone on the other side tried to open it. It would buy her only a few more seconds. She took aim at another lamp, but before she could say anything, the room was plunged into darkness.

Had it worked? Ginny ran her hands across the wall and found a wooden door where the cracked plaster had been. She frantically searched for the door handle. When she finally found the cold metal ring, she tugged on it and wrenched the door open. Behind her, the door to the kitchen flew open and a wizard stepped into the store room. She dove through the door, but wasn't fast enough. She felt a hex slam into her back.

The impact threw her against the stone wall of the passageway, but she was otherwise unaffected. If she got out of this, she would never be able to thank Fred and George enough. She ignored the pain in her ribs and lunged for the door. Before she'd pulled the door completely closed, she aimed her wand through the crack.

"_Inflamare!_"

One of the barrels on the wall burst into flame, spilling dark burning liquid across the floor of the room. She yanked the door closed and cast a quick locking charm on it. With luck, the fire —or the light it provided— would keep anyone from following her.

She took a moment to try and decide what to do. She couldn't hear anyone in the alley, but there was no way to know if anyone had been left to keep watch. While she contemplated how long she might be able to remain hidden where she was, she felt the ground and floor shudder. Whoever was inside was trying to get out. It didn't matter if anyone was watching. It was her only way out. She started to run away but stumbled as the doorway exploded.

Suddenly, the narrow passageway was lit with an ominous red light, and to her horror, Ginny saw a second wizard standing not ten feet from her. Unlike the others, he wore a black cloak and a scarf over his mouth. He wasn't moving toward her, but his wand was already pointed at her. She started to raise her wand, but she wasn't quick enough. A red beam of light struck her shoulder and bounced off, but sent her tumbling to the ground.

She looked behind her, hoping to find some other way to run, but instead she saw the shape of a wizard silhouetted against the flames. Before she could even think, a jet of blue sparks was headed directly toward her. She tried twisting away, but it ricocheted off her ribs, sending hot pain through her chest and back.

She was trapped. Her cloak had been hit three times. It wouldn't take much more. She had to get to the alley. That was the only way out. Summoning all her strength, she pushed herself back on her feet just in time to hear the wizard between her and the alley firing another hex at her.

She flattened herself against the wall and watched as the sparks shot past her, within inches of her face, yet still missing her completely. There was a loud cry from the end of the passage. The curse had struck the other wizard. Taking her one chance, she crouched down, jumped forward and drove her shoulder in the stomach of the nearby wizard. With a satisfying grunt, he stumbled backward and slammed into the wall viciously. Ginny stepped around him and ran for the alley.

When she broke out into the alley, she dodged behind the first corner she could find. A quick survey of the area revealed no other wizards either watching or guarding the alley. She took a deep breath and headed for the main street as fast as she had ever run.

She didn't stop until she reached the street. She hadn't heard any footsteps running after her, and when she turned to quickly check, she found the dark silhouette of the wizard dressed in black standing in the middle of the alley. He was not following her and he wasn't calling for anyone else. He just stood there, watching her. Maybe he was waiting to see just what she would do.

_He's not like the others,_ Ginny realized. He wasn't dressed in grey like the others. He had been waiting right where she had been headed. He wasn't shouting or passing commands. He knew what was happening. He knew because it was his plan.

Ginny looked up the street toward the palace. That was her quickest way out, and he would know that. They would be waiting for her. Her cloak had taken three direct hits. It was doubtful it could take another. There was nothing magical about the robes underneath it. Even if she ran, she would never make it.

She needed to go back to the Gringott's estate. She had an extra Shield Cloak and a set of Shield Robes in her traveling chest. With them, she might be able to last long enough to make it into the palace. She looked back down the alley but found it completely empty.

The sudden disappearance of her pursuer was disconcerting. Where had he gone? Was Grigore Tarus alright? Even if he wasn't, there wasn't anything she could do about it now. She'd never be able to stand against that many wizards, certainly not without a working Shield Cloak.

She pulled her hood up and ran as quickly as she could, slowing to a walk to catch her breath occasionally. When she reached the Gringott's estate, the goblins let her in without a single world. She leaped up the stairs and walked quickly to her room. She quietly opened the door and slipped into the darkened room. Her traveling chest was still at the foot of the bed, but it was no longer her main concern. She was much more interested in the wizard standing by her window and pointing a wand at her with a slightly unsteady hand.

"The hood," he said in a low voice, "take off your hood."

There was something oddly familiar about him. She thought she'd seen him before. He couldn't have been one of the guards. He was obviously not used to threatening another wizard with a wand. Also, he was wearing the dusty tan cloak of a convention wizard not the grey cloaks of the Brotherhood or the black cloak of the dark wizard in the alley. Whatever he was here for, Ginny felt confident that she could protect herself from him. Slowly she reached for her hood and pulled it back.

The wizards arm dropped limply. "It's you," he whispered. "You're here.."

"Of course I am, this is _my_ room," Ginny shot back. "Why are _you_ here?"

He ignored her question, walked to the door and looked about the corridor outside. He then closed the door and began looking around the room as if someone might jump at him at any moment. As he walked about, Ginny caught a flash of purple robes trimmed with gold, and she suddenly remembered where she'd seen him.

"You're— You're one of the Romanian delegates, aren't you?"

He turned and nodded. "You may call me Stefan. Is he with you?"

"Who? Grigore Tarus?" Ginny asked. "No, we were split up. Wizards attacked us—"

"Never mind that. You must come with me," he told her urgently. "We must leave as soon as we can."

"I'll be fine on my own, thanks," she told him, "but you might want to find someplace safe to hide. It looks like someone is attacking everyone connected to the French delegation, so—"

"No, you don't understand! It's _you _they're coming for."

"No, they don't care about me, it was Tarus—"

"No," Stefan interrupted sharply. "They had been watching and waiting, but no longer. Believe me when I tell you they are hunting you at this very moment. You must have done or heard something to cause this."

"No," Ginny protested. "I didn't do anything! I was supposed to meet with D'Anneau, but he's dead. I spoke with Tarus, but he hadn't told me anything important. They attacked and I defended myself, but that's it. I didn't' do anything else."

"You must have," Stefan said with finality. "Quickly now. Fetch whatever it is you foolishly returned here to fetch and we must get you out of the city as quickly as possible."

There was something odd about his voice which convinced Ginny he was telling her the truth. If she had to trust someone, he seemed to be the safest choice. She grabbed the robes and cloak she'd returned for and stepped into the closet to quickly change into them. When she came out, he was staring out the window into the darkness below.

"I swear I haven't done anything to upset them. If they're chasing me now, it's only because I escaped them before."

"I will not argue with you," Stefan replied. "I know only what I see. If it is as you say, then perhaps all we must do is escape the city. If you are wrong, there will be few places where you will be safe."

"What about Tarus? Shouldn't we try to find him?"

"No. Tarus will be fine. Do not worry about him."

"Why not?" Ginny hissed. "How is he in less danger than we are?"

"I assure you, Grigore Tarus is no longer in any danger," Stefan said with finality. "It is almost certain that he has already returned to Romania. He is a more capable wizard than he appears."

Ginny tried to appear as calm as possible as she led Stefan out of the estate and past the goblins. They said nothing to her, but eyed him warily. As she stepped out into the night air, she pulled her hood back over her head. She had hoped the black cloak would help her hide, but it was obvious that was not going to be possible. The area was brightly lit with a large number of lamps and torches.

"They lit them while we talked," Stefan said. "They are watching us now, but they will not attack while we are so close to the estate. Keep your wand ready."

They walked into the street and began slowly heading back up the street. Torches were lit all over, flooding the street with yellow, flickering light. "How are we supposed to get past the alley to your camp?" Ginny whispered. "There must have been twelve wizards there and all of the guards were gone."

Stefan looked tense. His eyes were scanning the buildings around them. "If we can make it to the alley, then I believe we will escape," he replied. "I'm afraid that you were wrong. We are being hunted. By the palace at the other end of the street, there is a large gate in the wall. It is closed and locked now, but there is a postern door twenty yards away. If we reach that, secrecy will not be needed, and we can burn it to cinders."

"Then what? Why are we any safer on the other side of the wall? They didn't have any trouble getting in. Who's to say there aren't a hundred of them waiting on the other side?"

"I do not believe that is the case," Stefan replied. "Once on the other side, we could make our way to the Gringott's bank. There is a place I know of where we will be safe. There is some risk, but it is acceptable. There is a fireplace in the bank which can take us there."

"If we're going to use the Floo, why not just use the one in the palace? We can go to the British Ministry."

"Did you learn nothing after the Quidditch match?" he hissed. "What could possibly make you believe that they cannot follow you there? Or that they are not there at this moment, waiting for you to arrive? Do you think they're going to go back to just following you around and waiting for you to stop off at the pub?"

Ginny stopped and stared at him. "How do you know about all of that?" Stefan turned and started walking back to her, but Ginny raised her wand and backed away. "I thought Tarus sent you. How could you know all of that, but not know your Minister had been attacked? Why were you waiting for me?"

"Please, we must keep moving," Stefan pleaded. "I will tell you everything I know if you come with me right now."

"Who sent you?" Ginny growled.

"Follow me and you will see. You don't understand. It's not what you think."

"I'm going to London. I don't care where you go."

"No, please!" Stefan shouted. "You must know. He's here. He's—"

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Ginny heard the incantation, but couldn't react fast enough. Her wand was wrenched from her grip and sent sailing into the night air. It landed well beyond reach, under a nearby torch. When she turned back to Stefan, she saw another wizard striding toward them.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

There was a blinding flash of sickly green light and a rush of wind. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness again, she found Stefan's emotionless eyes staring at her as he dropped onto the dusty street.

They had just killed him. He'd hadn't done anything. He had done even less than she had. Ginny watched in shock as the wizard strode forward and delivered a vicious kick to Stefan's ribs.

"Filth!" he shouted at the corpse. Then he looked up and aimed his wand directly at her. "You just stay right where ye are, lass. There's been quite enough escapin' for one night."

Ginny stared at the wizard in front of her. She couldn't see his face, but she could tell by his voice that he was British. He was wearing the same dusty grey cloaks as the wizards who had attacked Tarus. She couldn't help but think of what Tarus had told her. He had said he was afraid of leaving her where she was. Did he know they would eventually attack her if she returned to the estate? Stefan must have known, and now he was dead. Why should she think she would end up any different?

The wizard hadn't killed her yet. If that was their plan, why was he waiting? _He's waiting for help,_ she realized. It was just as Tarus had described. They'd lured her there and disabled her. The other wizards were closing in right now. She had to act while she only had a single enemy. _The cloak will protect me,_ she told herself, _the cloak will protect me._

She turned and ran for her wand. When she was almost there, she dove for it, hoping her captor would not be prepared for that. He was and she felt a curse bounce off her cloak, though it felt like she'd been punched in the ribs. She grabbed her wand and twisted on the ground to look at the wizard.

When the second curse came, she was able to cast a Shield Charm to block it properly. This only angered the wizard more, and he snarled as he took aim for another try. Ginny got to her feet and started backing toward an empty shop behind her. She needed to put some distance between her and the wizard.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a twinkle of green light coming from the top of one of the buildings. A moment later, she heard the faint sound of wind blowing through trees. She realized what was happening just in time and dove back toward the center of the street. The door of the store she'd been heading for shattered in an explosion of green sparks. The other wizards had arrived, and they didn't seem interested in simply capturing her anymore.

As she struggled back to her feet, she heard a series of loud explosions, followed by the roar of a heavy wind. She could see it coming. It was tossing debris down the street and extinguishing all of the torches and lamps. The wind knocked down the British wizard, and but Ginny cast a Shield Charm just in time to avoid the worst of it.

The wind died down almost immediately, but it seemed it had accomplished its purpose. The street was left in complete darkness. Ginny could barely see little more than shadows and faint outlines, but she could still hear the wizard as he slowly walked toward her. If she didn't move, he'd find her. Before he could get any closer, she ran away, hoping to give herself more time to adjust to the darkness.

"_Stupefy!_"

Ginny saw the red beam bounce of her hip and took note of the location of her attacker. However, she was not the only one watching, and a second later, a jet of green light struck the street only feet from the cloaked wizard. In the flash of light as the stone shattered, she saw the wizard recoiling in fear. An insane plan formulated itself inside her head.

She ran toward the wizard, slamming into him before he realized she was even nearby. With one hand, she grasped his robes as tightly as she could and with the other, she pointed her wand at the source of the last Killing Curse.

"_Incendio!_" she shouted.

Before the glowing ball of fire had crossed even half the distance to its target, Ginny saw a flash and the ominous green twinkle of the wizard's deadly response. She pulled her wand arm back and grasped tightly onto the wizards robes. She pulled herself as close to him as she could manage, then closed her eyes and hoped she hadn't made a horrible mistake.

The wizard she had grappled onto didn't understand what was happening. For a second he struggled with her, trying to pull her hands from his chest. "What in bloody hell do you think—"

With a flash of green light and a rush of wind, his voice was cut short, and he fell forward. Ginny's plan hadn't really extended that far, and now she found herself trapped beneath the wizard she had just used to protect herself. As she attempted to heave his body off of her, the ground around her lit up with a harsh yellow light. _A Flare Charm,_ she told herself, _They're checking to see if they just did what they thought they did_. Perhaps it was best that she was still hidden under his body. Ginny waited for the light to fade. Once it was dark again, she could slip away before anyone else showed up.

The darkness returned and Ginny began slowly pulling herself out from under the wizard. As she pushed him onto his side, something heavy fell from inside his robes and struck her hand, making her wince. She quickly finished freeing herself and dashed off into the shadows. After a minute she still saw no sign of any more wizards. Either they were regrouping, or they were preparing another ambush somewhere else.

Ginny's mind kept returning to the Brotherhood wizard lying dead in the street. She hadn't cast the curse, but had she killed him? If she hadn't tricked the other wizard, he would still be alive. It didn't sound all that different from pushing a wizard in front of a curse. Even more disturbing was instinctual, efficient manner in which she'd done it. It has simply felt natural, and that thought made her feel ill.

She looked at the empty expression on his face. He was British, probably Scottish, or from Scottish parents. He had killed Stefan. Did that make what she did alright? Had she just given him justice? What if he had some reason for doing what he did? She wanted to find out more about him. Why had he joined them? Why had he killed an innocent man?

She crept forward and found his body lying right where she'd left it. It was too dark to see his face properly, but she wasn't so daft as to venture any light at the moment. He'd been wearing something around his neck, a medallion or crest of some sort. Perhaps it was a family heirloom of some sort which she could use to identify him.

She felt around his neck and found two heavy chains. One of them held nothing, but the other had something heavy on it. Ginny reached around his neck, unclasped the chain and drew it out. She walked back to the shadows and tried to get a better look at the necklace. She inched a little farther from her hiding spot so some of the faint moonlight could strike it.

The chain was made of large interlocking oval rings. It was not light or elegant, but it wasn't excessively heavy either. It merely did its job. In the center, however, was a talisman of some sort. It consisted of a single ring which seemed to pass through three equally spaced spheres which were only slightly thicker than the ring itself. It was too large to be worn on a finger, and not nearly large enough to be a bracelet, but quite heavy. It was probably made out of a single piece of gold.

As she ran her fingers over it searching for any engravings or markings, a shadow passed over the small object. Ginny turned and found a large dark shape looming over her. She jumped back and fumbled in her pocket for her wand. Before she could find it, the wizard standing over her had his wand out and pointed directly at her. Ginny remained crouching and staring at him, waiting for the flash of green and the sound of her approaching death.

It never came, instead he extended an arm to point at the talisman, then held out his hand as if to ask her to give it to him. Instead of doing as he wished, she clutched it tighter and slowly stood up. Perhaps the only reason she was still alive was because she was holding it. Of course, it hadn't protected its previous owner very well, but it was all she had to work with at the moment.

Slowly, Ginny started backing away from the wizard and drawing him back toward the center of the street. In the dim light, she could finally see his black robes and the black scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. He didn't say anything to her, but slowly inched closer and closer. Before he could get close enough to grab it from her, Ginny tossed the talisman off to her right. The wizard in black turned to see where it landed, and Ginny sensed her opportunity. She lunged forward and grabbed his wand hand. After a short struggle, she ripped the wand from his hand and threw it down the street. He let out a enraged shout and ran after his wand.

Ginny turned and ran in the opposite direction. There was a narrow alley not much farther down the street. The outline of a number of trees rose over the roofs of the buildings. That should mean there was an open courtyard. If she could reach the courtyard, there would have to be another way out. Wherever that was, it certainly couldn't be any more dangerous than her current location. When she reached the entrance to the narrow alley, she turned back to the street. The wizard in black was just picking up his wand. Ginny aimed her wand and focused as much as she could.

"_Accio Talisman!_"

A few seconds later, the talisman slammed into her free hand, sending spikes of pain through her arm. She groaned in pain as she ran down the alleyway. It was much narrower than she had thought and it was littered with bricks and bits of wood. Ginny ran as quickly as she could, hoping that she would find somewhere to turn before she was struck in the back with another curse.

Just when she was about to give up and look for some other way out, a wide opening appeared to her left. She jumped behind the corner and listened closely for footsteps. There were none, but she didn't want to take her chances. She seemed to be in a long empty space behind a walled courtyard. The trees she had seen from the street were still ahead of her. She jogged through the dark, trying to watch the area ahead of her for ways back onto the main street while trying to listen for any sign that she was being followed.

After a short time, she came to the wall which seemed to surround the large courtyard that held the trees. She attempted to jump up and pull herself over the wall, but found that her legs barely had the strength to keep her standing. A few quick spells revealed that the wall had been charmed to resist most of the simpler spells and she didn't dare use anything that might cause any noise. Instead, she searched the area for anything that could help her climb over the wall. Finally, she found a discarded crate. Stepping on top of it, she was able to pull herself over the wall.

She looked around. It wasn't really a courtyard. It looked more like an empty marketplace. She ran along one of the paths, trying not to think about the burning sensation that was growing in her legs. There was a wide opening to her left, but she decided to keep following the market paths. She could see the tall tower that marked the center of the palace. She was closer than she thought. If she was lucky, she'd completely avoided quite a number of angry wizards.

The marketplace came to an end, but there was no exit onto the street. Instead, there was a large building with a number of wide gates. Ginny slowly made her way toward them. All of the gates were open, and the large hall which separated the marketplace from the street was brightly lit and completely empty.

As Ginny cautiously stepped inside, she told herself that there should be guards there. They had all left. Or they had been attacked. Ginny approached the gates to the street carefully. Only one of the gates on the street side was open, and as she stepped closer, she could hear voices. Maybe the guards hadn't left.

"Well, where did Hamid go?" one of them said. "He and Tamar left to investigate some explosions and they haven't returned. If nothing has happened, what did they hear and where are they now?"

"I assure you, it is nothing," another explained with a faint German accent. "There are security wizards swarming all over the streets. The Egyptian wizards don't know the World Cup security wizards, and nobody knows these Romanians prowling about and twitching at every shadow that moves. It's no surprise everyone turned on each other when these foolish wizards from that poor girl's family slipped past the guards."

"If it's nothing, then why have the patrols not returned? Why did an official report that there was another death at the far end of the street?"

"I was there all night," the other wizard announced. "I only left a few minutes ago. There was no attack."

Ginny felt a chill run down her spine. At best he was a liar, but it seemed much more likely that he was a member of the Brotherhood who had been sent here after the first attack failed. He wouldn't be the only one. They must have been waiting for her to come here.

"How many died in the French camp?" the guard asked.

"It's hard to say. D'Anneau and the girl for certain. One of the British delegates as well. Maybe another one of the French wizards. Some claim that a number of the attackers died, supposedly wizards from the Sebiti family. I didn't see any of them, though. Someone said they went and attacked the Romanian Minister after that. They must have thought that he had some part in setting it up."

"What about the girl?"

"The pretty one?" the guard asked, "The one D'Anneau supposedly liked so much? She was supposed to be in the French camp, but no one's seen her. She might have run off already."

"She couldn't have left," the other wizard said. "Have everyone search for her. We have to find her."

Ginny slowly backed away from the gate. She wouldn't be able to trust the guards either. She knew she wasn't far from the palace. Once inside, she might find plenty of places to hide until things calmed down a bit. First, she'd have to get there. There were wide corridors at either end of the hall. Those seemed to be her only option, so she picked the one that would take her closer to the palace.

After what felt like hours of sneaking past open doors and hiding from wizards who didn't really exist, she finally reached a small lobby with a polished marble floor. A large desk stood in the middle of the room, and an old wizard was sitting at it and scratching away at a roll of parchment. He was alone. He was the first wizard she'd seen or heard since listening to the guard at the gate.

She casually walked toward him with her hands in her pockets, one of them clutching her wand tightly. When she almost halfway to him, he heard her and twisted in his seat.

"Pardon me, but this area if off limits," he announced in bored voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ginny apologized sweetly. "I guess I'm a bit lost. I was looking for the large palace building at the end of the street."

He frowned at her. "Well, it's through those doors and right across the street, but it won't matter. This whole area of the city has been closed off. You should head back to your camp. If you'll just show me your identification, I'll call a couple guards to escort you."

"That won't be necessary,"

"Oh, but it is," he replied sharply. "Just how did you get in here?"

"_Stupefy!_"

The wizard slumped forward, then slipped off his seat and tumbled to the floor. Ginny walked to the door, and pulled it open just enough for her to get a look at the street. It was mostly empty. She could only see a single guard at the palace gate. She was almost out. She had no choice but to return to London, no matter what Josef had said. Even if twenty wizards were right on her heels, she felt confident she could reach the fireplace inside the palace.

She walked out the door and began walking quickly across the street. Her wand was out, but at her side. When the guard spotted her, she'd have little time. She was halfway across the street and he didn't seem to care yet. As she passed under the shadows cast by the tall tower over the entrance, the guard finally took notice of her.

"Stay where you are!" he shouted. "The Shetiri Estate is closed to—"

"_Stupefy!_"

The wizard dropped to the stone floor and Ginny broke into a run. As she slipped through the doorway, she heard shouts coming from the street. Before the door closed, a spell struck it, ripping it from its hinges and tossing it into the street. Ginny pushed herself to run faster. She turned quickly and found the long corridor which she'd been led down when she first arrived. As she ran past the small halls, she saw wizards standing and pointing.

She had almost reached the end of the hallway when the first hex struck her back. She stumbled for a moment then slipped around a corner. She ran forward a short distance, then jumped into a small closet and closed the door. She listened as a number of wizards ran past the door, then walked back and started shouting at each other.

"It wasn't my imagination, Ileana! I know what I saw. I hit her with a hex. I have used the same spell on Hippogriffs. She should have fallen where she was."

"Well then, where did she go?" asked the voice of a witch. "It's not like the palace is filled with red haired witches. You know what he'll do if she escapes again."

"Then we should go and look for her instead of standing here while you babble. She's probably wearing a charmed black cloak. It can't protect her from everything."

"No Killing Curses!" the witch snapped. "He said she's not to be killed. Not yet, and not by you."

Ginny didn't know if she should be happy to know that they weren't supposed to kill her. Being captured sounded like an equally horrible fate. The wizards said nothing else, and the sounds of their boots echoed in the corridor outside.

She knew she wasn't far from the fireplace. In some ways, that made it even more difficult. She'd never be able to use it if they were always only a short distance away. She needed a distraction. She looked around the cramped closet for anything that might make enough noise to draw them away.

Her eyes locked on something much better. Reluctantly, she took off her cloak and tossed it around a broken coat stand in the corner. The cloak probably only had one good shield left in it. She wished it was more, but she might need her robes. She took a moment to massage her legs. If it worked, this would be the last bit of running she'd have to do for a while.

She pressed her wand against the coat stand and concentrated. Suddenly it shuddered and leaped forward. Seconds later, it was dancing around the closet frantically. She quickly opened the door, then closed it as soon as the coat stand had galloped out of the room. It ran down the hall, heading back in the direction Ginny had come from. To her delight, it was followed a few seconds later by the heavy footfalls of booted wizards.

She waited for them to turn the corner, then opened the door again and ran out of the closet in the opposite direction. Her legs were on fire, but she kept running. She made a right turn and then a quick left. She remembered the heavy rug from the previous day. She was just about there. She could see the doors in front of her. Taking no chance, she aimed her wand.

"_Reducto!_"

The doors splintered and broke open, and the sound echoed down the corridor behind her. They would hear that and know what happened. She dashed into the room and started frantically searching the mantle for a cannister of Floo powder.

"We cannot let you leave!" a voice shouted.

In a single motion, Ginny turned and aimed her wand. Standing just beyond the broken doors was a middle aged witch with rather severe features. The witch simply chuckled.

"You don't have your cloak anymore," she said with a laugh. "Even if you stop me, you'll not stop the others. They will be here within seconds."

Ginny spotted the Floo powder. It was in a jar which had been sitting on a table near the door and had now rolled under a table. Whatever she was going to do, she needed the powder.

"_Accio jar!_"

The jar zipped toward her. Just as she caught it, she felt a sharp pain in her chest as a ball of blue sparks struck her chest and bounced off into the ceiling, sending stone raining down onto the floor. Suddenly, she knew what to do. She pointed her wand back at the door.

"_Reducto!_"

The ceiling exploded and huge chunks of rubble cascaded down into the open doorway, sealing her in. She quickly opened the jar and took a handful of Floo powder in her left hand. In her right hand she clutched her wand. She aimed her wand at the fireplace and it blazed to life.

She stared at it and wondered where she could go. Stefan had been right. They probably would be waiting for her at the Ministry. She needed someplace else to go, but if she picked anyplace else, they would simply follow her. The witch was already blasting her way through the stone blocking the doorway. Perhaps there was something more permanent she could do.

After a few deep breaths she tossed the powder into the flames which flared bright green. She stepped onto the hearth and aimed her wand at the ceiling.

"_Reducto!_"

As the first blocks of stone fell, Ginny jumped into the flames and shouted: "_Diagon Alley!_" The roar of the fire mixed with the rumbling of the room falling down around the fireplace. Suddenly, she found herself being tossed out onto a hard stone floor.

She was covered in dust and soot and she seemed to be bleeding from a deep cut on her arm. Several small chunks of stone had made the journey with her, but she doubted anyone would be following her.

"Ginny?" a familiar voice called out. Ginny pushed herself off the floor and found Albert staring at her in shock.

"Hello, Albert," she said weakly.

"You're back a bit early, aren't you?" he asked casually. "I suppose that's probably a good sign, right? Would you care to share a drink over it?"

Ginny stared at him. "Not tonight, Albert. I've got someone— er... I think I'll just head home."

"You do look a bit tired around the eyes," he said with a smile. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

Albert helped her to her feet and let her lean on him as they walked out into Diagon Alley. "I'll just Apparate from here," Ginny said. Albert had always been so nice to her. She wished she could tell him the truth, but that would only put him in danger. If she was going to endanger anyone, it might as well be someone who was used to it.


	9. A Death in the Family

Chapter 9

A Death in the Family

Ginny Apparated into the dark, quiet flat. As her eyes adjusted to the moonlit room, she got a bizarre feeling. It was late, but Hermione never went to sleep this early. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

"_Lumos,_" she whispered, and the tip of her wand cast a soft light across the floor. There were no books, no scattered parchment, and no bags or satchels lying on the floor. Ginny walked to the kitchen and found a cup of tepid tea on the table next to some cold toast. The day's _Daily Prophet_ was laying next to them, and laying casually next to it was Hermione's wand.

Something _was_ wrong.

"Hermione!" Ginny called out. Hermione always kept her wand with her. Ginny waved her wand at one of the lamps, and it blazed to life, flooding the room with warm yellow light. Ginny started walking toward Hermione's bedroom. Almost in response, there was a muffled shriek and a series of loud _thumps_.

Ginny aimed her wand at the door and it flew open. A second later she slipped through the door then ducked and ran along the wall as she lit another lamp. As the room lit up, there was another more piercing shriek. Ginny stood and aimed her wand in the direction of its source.

"Ginny!" shouted a very surprised Hermione. "What are you doing? Why are you here?" She was sitting up in her bed with her covers pulled over her chest. Her hair was slightly tangled and was showing hints of the bushiness of her youth. For a moment, Ginny wondered if she'd truly been sleeping. There was still something off, though. She was a little too alert. Her eyes darted about the room nervously and her face was flushed.

Ginny kept her wand ready. "Why did you scream?"

"I screamed because I thought someone had broken into my flat."

"What were those noises after you screamed?" Ginny asked.

Hermione returned a stern look. "Ginny, I can't talk to you now. I can't talk to you tomorrow. You need to leave. This is—"

"Who else is here?" Ginny interrupted. She carefully walked toward the other side of the room where Hermione's wardrobe and closet were. "Are you alone?"

Hermione ignored her. "This is serious, Ginny. You don't know the trouble you'll cause if you stay here."

"I don't know it, do I?" Ginny laughed bitterly as she crept closer to the closet.

"Ginny, _please_, you have to leave," begged Hermione.

Ginny ignored her. She reached the closet door. Someone else was in the room, she could almost feel it. There had been no sound to suggest they had Disapparated, just three loud thumps. She reached for the closet door, but paused. _Three sounds,_ she repeated to herself. _like the sound of jumping into a wardrobe and closing two doors_.

In one swift movement, she dove for the wardrobe and pulled both doors open. One side was completely filled with drawers and shelves while the other had robes and dresses hanging in it.

"Don't move!" she growled as she jabbed her wand into the hanging clothes. Her wand stopped abruptly as it struck something before reaching the back of the wardrobe.

"Bloody Hell!" shouted an all too familiar voice. An arm shot out of the rack of clothes and shoved her backward. She tried to keep her balance, but tripped over a pile of clothes and fell to the floor. The pain of hitting the wood floor was nothing compared to the shock of seeing her brother step out of the wardrobe with a fluffy pink towel wrapped around his waist.

"Ron?" Ginny gasped.

"That hurt!" he roared as he rubbed a small red welt on his chest. "What were you thinking, just barging in and waving your wand about?"

"Ron," Hermione complained weakly, "that was a clean towel..."

"So?" Ron shot back, "I'm disgustingly filthy now, am I? You weren't complaining a minute ago—"

"Enough, Ronald!" Hermione shouted. She closed her eyes and rubbed her head, with one hand while holding up the sheets with the other. "Why did you come here, Ginny?"

"I need to talk to you."

"_Now?_" Ron exclaimed. "We're busy. Come back tomorrow."

"It's urgent," Ginny said, still refusing to look at Ron. "I can't wait until tomorrow."

Hermione sighed in frustration and stared back at Ginny. "Is this about Charlie or... or anyone else we knew?"

"No," Ginny lied.

"Fine. Can we have a moment?"

"A moment?" Ron asked angrily. "How about 'Come back tomorrow'?"

Hermione frowned and shook her head. "Wait in the main room. We'll be out in a few minutes."

Ron was incensed. "A few minutes? What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're going to shut up and put your clothes on," Hermione replied.

A few minutes later a very harassed Hermione and an extremely grumpy Ron stepped out of Hermione's bedroom and walked into the main room of the flat. Hermione fetched her wand from the kitchen table and took a seat on her couch, leaving plenty of room for Ron. He, however, decided that the chair across the room looked more inviting. Hermione scowled at him.

"Right then," Ron said with feigned cheer, "what vitally important topic did you want to chat about tonight, Ginny? Did you see another mysterious wizard following you, or did that slime ball D'Anneau say something horribly inappropriate? If he did, I could snuff him for you, or maybe—"

"That isn't something to joke about, Ron," Ginny snapped.

"Why not?" Ron replied. "Right about now, a little humor looks to be the most enjoyment I'll be getting out of the night, so I might as well take what I can." With a threatening voice, he added, "Whatever it is you're here to talk about, it better be serious."

In response, Ginny held up her left arm and gently pulled back the sleeve of her black robes. Now that she got a good look at it, it made even her wince. There was a nasty cut along her upper forearm that had covered much of her arm down to her wrist with a dark red stain. Ron looked shocked; Hermione looked pale.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I was attacked," Ginny replied simply.

Ron stood up and walked closer. "By D'Anneau?"

"No," Ginny answered slowly. "By someone else. Quite a few of them, really. I was hoping I could talk to you about it."

"Not here," Hermione said. Her eyes were still locked on Ginny's arm and she was looking more and more pale. "Can we go to your place?"

"The Burrow?" Ron asked.

"No. Ginny's place."

Ginny waited patiently in the alley across from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. After only a minute, Ron and Hermione popped into existence only a few feet away. Thankfully, Ron looked to be in a slightly better mood. Hermione, however, had her hair tied back again,and looked to be much worse than when Ginny had left. Her eyes were red and it seemed she was about to cry.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Ginny. I—" she started mumbling. "It's all my fault. I should have told you. I knew something like this—"

"Not here," Ginny told her. "Wait until we're inside."

Ginny didn't want to appear so cold, but she kept hearing Stefan's words in the back of her head. He'd said that they would be waiting for her. It hurt her to admit it, but she couldn't be sure she was actually talking to Ron and Hermione. If they could impersonate Harry, it wouldn't be much harder to do the same with her friends or family. As the reached the door, Ginny stood aside.

"Go on," she whispered, "I just want to make sure we're not being followed."

Hermione hesitated at the door, and Ginny's eyes flashed with sudden suspicion. Hermione's expression softened and she backed away slightly. "What's wrong, Ginny? You're not acting like yourself."

"Go in the house," Ginny commanded.

Hermione gave her a frightened look, but did as she was told. Ron followed her and as they both disappeared into the house, Ginny let out a deep sigh and felt her muscles relax. She was safe. As she stepped into the old house, she felt a dull ache spreading through her legs. She motioned for Ron and Hermione to go to the kitchen, and she followed them slowly. Once inside the kitchen they took seats at the large table and Ginny attempted to do the same.

As she walked toward the table, she felt herself lurch to the side and suddenly her legs simply gave out, sending her crashing to the floor. As Ron and Hermione pulled her back to her feet, her eyes caught the red imprint her bloody hand had left on the floor. Everything had happened so quickly. How had she gotten so tangled in this mess? She hadn't done anything. It had seemed to swallow her up.

"What happened to you?" Hermione asked as she waved her wand over the cut on Ginny's arm "Who did this?"

"It _was_ that slime ball, D'Anneau, wasn't it?" Ron said. "I told you you shouldn't trust him. I swear, the next time I see him, I'll kill him."

Ginny let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "That's an empty threat, Ron."

Hermione leaned closer to Ginny. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Henri D'Anneau is dead."

Hermione's jaw dropped. Ron just stared at her in confusion. "He's what?" he asked.

"They killed him," Ginny repeated in an emotionless voice. "They killed him because he was going to tell me something."

"_Who_ killed him?" Hermione asked.

"The wizards in the grey cloaks. The Brotherhood. The guards said some Egyptian family did it, but I know the Brotherhood was involved. They were responsible."

Hermione gave Ginny a sympathetic look. "They killed him because he was going to tell you something?" Ginny nodded and Hermione leaned over to console her. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I was trying to protect both of us. I thought that if I told you it would only make it worse, but I— I didn't think it would go this far. I mean, I knew they could— but not this. All you did was try to find them?"

"I don't want to find them anymore," Ginny said forcefully. "They can keep their secrets. They're all dark wizards. I don't care who they've helped. They're corrupt and violent and evil."

"No," Hermione disagreed with just as much force. "No, they aren't all evil. You must believe me. Whatever you choose to think of them, remember that they aren't all bad."

"They attacked the Romanian Minister, Hermione!" Ginny nearly shouted. "They attacked him because he was telling me what D'Anneau was going to. I escaped, and found someone who said he'd help me find someplace safe. They killed him, Hermione. They killed him right in front of me, and then they came for me. Two of them tried to _kill_ me, and I—" Ginny paused as her throat tightened. She looked into Hermione's eyes with numb detachment.

"I killed a wizard, Hermione. It wasn't an accident. I didn't cast the curse, but I meant him to die. I wanted him to die. Don't you see what they've made me become?" Ginny asked bitterly. "I don't care if they're just doing it for money. They're working for a new Dark Lord."

"Hold on— a Dark Lord?" Ron interrupted. "What does this have to do with you?"

"I wanted to know who killed Charlie," Ginny explained. She quickly told Ron about the Spectrecorder and the grey-cloaked wizards. "I thought the Brotherhood would help me find the wizard who killed Charlie. I was so stupid. They didn't want to be found. They weren't there to protect the wand. Their master wanted it, and they helped him get it."

"Why does anyone care about Voldemort's wand?" Ron said. "How is it any different than any other wand?"

"It's a symbol, Ron," Ginny explained. "A dark wizard holding Voldemort's wand inspires fear and loyalty."

"So why were the Death Eaters trying to stop them?"

"Because they wanted the wand for themselves," said Hermione. "We think they believe they can use the wand to resurrect Lord Voldemort."

"Is that even possible?" Ron asked.

"It doesn't really matter. It takes more than just his wand, and they'll never get all of the other ingredients. I don't think it's possible. Of course, they might still try.." her voice trailed off as if she were suddenly uncertain of herself.

"Maybe the Brotherhood simply wanted to trade the wand for something more useful," Ginny suggested. "Whatever it was, somehow Charlie found out about all of it and he came there to stop them. He didn't tell us because he knew it would only put us in danger."

"And it was just a coincidence that everyone picked the same day to show up?" Ron said. "That's a bit hard to believe, isn't it?"

"There's more I haven't told either of you," Hermione said. "Maybe I should have told you earlier. I don't know anymore. Everything is so different now," she said in a defeated tone. She looked up into Ginny's eyes. "The Death Eaters had been trying to steal the wand for months. Before that day, they had never even made it into the Ministry. Their plans were always hopeless. The Aurors had always stopped them, but that day they got past the Aurors and all the wards and they got nearly got the wand. There's no way they got that lucky."

"What if they followed these Brotherhood blokes in?" suggested Ron.

"It's possible," Hermione agreed, "but it seems more likely that they were working together —at that point, at least." Hermione continued to recount everything she hadn't told Ginny when she'd seen the Spectrecorder.

The Death Eaters hadn't broken into the Ministry by force. Ginny had guessed that already. There had been no alarms and no one had any idea of their presence. Hermione had been stunned and someone had grabbed the wand. When the Unspeakables woke her up later, there were two dead Death Eaters outside her door. It appeared as if there had been a fight between the Death Eaters and the Brotherhood right there.

"That doesn't sound right," Ron interrupted. "Why would they help the Death Eaters get in, then attack them? Why not just do it all themselves?"

"They wanted someone to blame it on," Ginny answered. "Just like the Egyptian wizards who were blamed for D'Anneau's death. They were just an excuse. They probably didn't even know the whole plan. Charlie must have found out about it from some Brotherhood wizard, maybe someone he worked with."

"Something still sounds wrong," Ron said. "Why didn't he raise the alarms? That's not going to endanger anyone, is it?"

"He must have just arrived," Ginny guessed. "He wouldn't know who to trust, so—"

"Stop," Hermione interrupted. "That's what I needed to tell you about. It's about Charlie. We know why he was there, and we know why he didn't talk to anyone."

"You knew, and you didn't tell me?" Ginny growled. "How could you—"

"How could I?" Hermione repeated sharply. "How could I keep Department of Mysteries secrets from you? It's really pretty easy when you've got the right motivation," she said bitterly. "At first it was fear of being reprimanded again after they found that I took the Spectrecorder, but it's a bit more serious now. I've been working for half wages since the night I was called away from you, and they won't even let me quit. I'm too much of a risk right now. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to afford that flat, but that's not even the worst part. If anyone finds out that I have said _anything_ to you about Charlie or Harry or anything the Department works on, I won't have to worry about the flat at all. They'll send me straight to Azkaban."

"Azkaban!" Ron shouted. "For talking to Ginny?"

"No, for revealing secret information to the subject of an investigation."

"Someone was lying to you. If the Aurors were investigating—"

"It's not the Aurors, Ron," Hermione said, stopping him. "A pair of Unspeakables are working on it. They report directly to Reynard. And it's not just Ginny. They're watching Bill and Arthur, too. For now, they have no interest in you or the twins."

"Why am I being investigated?" Ginny croaked. "I haven't done anything! I've had enough of this! What did I do to cause all of this?"

"You're being investigated because of Charlie —because you're so interested in finding out what happened to him," Hermione told her. Before Ginny could ask, Hermione continued explaining, "Charlie didn't show up just in time to stop the thief. He was inside the Department of Mysteries at least ten minutes before anything happened, probably longer."

Ginny's thoughts raced. What could that mean? Ron had a good point. If he was there that early, he had plenty of time to raise alarms or fetch help. Tarus had said that he'd been brave to do it alone. "Maybe he didn't trust the Aurors," Ginny offered. "Maybe he was trying to figure out what they were up to."

Hermione just shook her head. "He already knew what was going to happen, Ginny. At the very least, he knew what was planned to happen." Hermione looked down and rubbed her hands together nervously. "He came and talked to me in one of the corridors."

"You talked to him right before it happened?" Ron asked incredulously.

Hermione kept her eyes on her hands. "I knew it felt odd at the time, but... Well, my job feels odd rather often, so I didn't really think about it. Charlie asked me if I was working on anything important at the moment. I knew I shouldn't tell him about the wand, so I just said that it was terribly important, but that it was a secret. He just nodded and told me that I should put it someplace safe because he needed to talk with me about something very important. He said he had something else to do, but that he'd come back to my office later."

Ron looked confused. "And you think he was going to tell you about the attack?"

"No, just hear me out," Hermione said distractedly. "On the way back to my office, my supervisor saw me and he questioned me about my progress with the wand. It probably took about ten minutes. I returned to my office and packed the wand into its case. When I turned around to take it back to the vault, I saw a hooded wizard pointing a wand at me."

Ginny's mind quickly put the pieces together. "You can't think that Charlie set it all up?"

"No, I don't," Hermione replied. "When they woke me up, the case was empty and there were signs of a battle just outside my door. They found one dead Death Eater just outside the door and another a short way down the corridor. I think Charlie was trying to protect me. I told Reynard and the others about what Charlie had said to me and that's when they started looking into what he'd been doing. Somehow, Charlie knew what was coming. He knew the Death Eaters were there. He knew what they wanted, and he knew that I had it."

"But he was trying to keep you safe," Ginny insisted.

"There must have been quite a few wizards in that hallway. Charlie was a good wizard, but he couldn't have fought them all by himself. He wasn't even there. A guard saw him leave the department shortly after the attack started." Hermione's eyes were filled with sympathy as they stared at Ginny. "He wasn't going for help. He didn't need to. He knew the... He knew the Brotherhood would protect me."

"No—" Ginny said defiantly, "—Not them. They were trying to _kill_ me, Hermione."

"And they saved me, so where does that put us?" Hermione shot back. She slumped forward, massaging her temples. "I don't understand it either, Ginny. I don't have all the answers. How could he know that I had the wand? How could he know that I'd have it right then?"

"Wait," Ron interrupted. "You weren't supposed to have the wand, though. It was supposed to be in the vault. It would have been if you hadn't been stopped by your boss."

"The Unspeakables said the attack actually started about the time I got back to my office. A group of wizards broke into Vault Twenty-Three. That's the vault the wand is supposed to be stored in. When they didn't find it there, they came running to my office."

Ginny stared stonily at Hermione. "What are you saying, Hermione?"

"Charlie wasn't trying to stop the grey wizards. He never convinced them to help him, and he wasn't doing anything on his own. The grey wizards were in charge. They helped the Death Eaters finally break into the Ministry. They knew the wand was supposed to be in Vault Twenty-Three, and they knew it was going to be there because Charlie told them. He was _working_ _for_ the grey wizards, Ginny."

"No," Ginny said as she stood shakily. "You're wrong. You said you didn't know everything. The Brotherhood works for the new Dark Lord. If Charlie was working for them, why did he try and stop their master?"

Hermione stood and walked over to try and comfort her. "They searched his robes, Ginny," she explained. "They found... proof. We know he was helping them, but that doesn't mean that he had become a dark wizard. He saved my life. You're right. We don't have all the answers. I don't know why anyone behaved as they did, but you have to know that Charlie was trying to do the right thing. He was a good wizard, and he died protecting us and the Ministry."

Ginny shuffled toward the fireplace and crouched down in front of it. Her whole life seemed to be crumbling around her. She'd lost so much already, now she'd even lost her desire for justice. Charlie had been tricked as well. He couldn't have known what he was doing. She'd only wanted to see his killer punished. Was that so wrong? Was it worth the price she had to pay?

As hot tears rolled down her cheeks, she could feel the weight of the talisman against her ribs as the fire warmed it through her pocket. Whoever this new Dark Lord was, he had tricked Charlie into helping him, and killed him when he found out what he'd done. He'd made Ginny kill a man. It wouldn't be long before Hermione was thrown in Azkaban. No matter how hard she tried, they'd find some reason to do it, Ginny was certain.

"You two should go," she said flatly. "I've learned quite enough for tonight."

"There are plenty of rooms here," Hermione said softly. "We can stay here."

"Go," Ginny ordered softly. "I think I need to be alone."

"I won't leave you, Ginny. I won't let you do anything stupid."

"Ha!" Ginny barked. "What would the point be? I've done plenty of stupid things already. Why stop now? I might as well continue, if only to provide some sort of consistency in my life."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione apologized, "I can't help thinking this is all my fault. I thought I was doing the right thing. I believed you would be safer if you didn't know about Charlie and everything that had happened down there. I thought they would feel threatened if you knew. I never thought it would go this far. I was wrong. I should have told you everything. There's more I could tell you—"

"You've said enough for tonight," Ginny said, stopping her friend's frantic apology. "There's no point in sending yourself to Azkaban now." Ginny paused and rubbed her eyes. When she looked up, she saw a tear rolling down Hermione's cheek. "Don't blame yourself," she told her in a comforting voice, "you did what you were supposed to. That's exactly what they expected you to do. Nothing you could have told me could have prevented this, and nothing you can tell me now will fix it."

"Ginny—"

"Go, Hermione," Ginny persisted. "I'm not going anywhere. I just need some time, alright? The vote is tomorrow. No one expects me home until tomorrow night. That's all I'm asking for. In two days, I'll be back at the Ministry trying to explain to Harrington how I managed to destroy any hope of improving our relations with France."

Hermione nodded and whispered something to Ron. Together, the wished Ginny a peaceful night's sleep and quietly left her crouching by the fire.

She'd gotten the answers she'd asked for, though they were not at all what she wanted them to be. What was she supposed to do now? Any more searching would just put her friends and family in more danger. Was she supposed to ignore everything she learned, waiting for the day when the new Dark Lord would step into the spotlight, with her as his first target?

She would have to fight them as they had fought her. There was little for her to lose now. If she was the only one who knew about this new Dark Lord, then perhaps she could take the one thing he valued most: his secrecy.

Ginny awoke the next morning to a series of rather persistent pokes to her shoulder. Why was Kreacher waking her up this time? Only half awake, she batted the hand away viciously. "I thought I told you to stay away from me," she shouted.

"Yes, but I thought you only meant for last night."

Ginny shot out of bed and blinked against the light. Hermione was standing in front of her with a concerned-looking frown. Ginny tried to gather together enough alertness to try and make some sense of Hermione's presence.

"I, er... I thought you were Kreacher."

"Thanks," Hermione replied unenthusiastically. "You're not looking so impressive this morning either, you know."

"No... Kreacher woke me up once, when the Ministry was about to send someone to find me. I thought he was doing it again."

"No, he's busy cleaning up the mess you made of your wardrobe in the kitchen. Listen, Ginny, something has happened and we need to talk—"

Ginny held up a hand. "Hold on— he's doing what?"

Hermione was talking about something and trying to wave some parchment in front of her, but Ginny ignored her, walked out of the room and down the stairs toward the kitchen. When she burst through the door, she found Kreacher standing in front of the wardrobe she used to store spare clothes. He was hanging a small pile of robes and muttering angrily to himself.

"What did you do?" Ginny shouted at him.

"Kreacher did as he was told," he mumbled as he hung another robe. "Kreacher is still doing as he was told."

"Who told you to toss my stuff out of the wardrobe?"

Kreacher stopped and glared at her. "No one told Kreacher to touch the filthy wardrobe. It's filled with grime and foul clothes. Kreacher wouldn't dream of touching them."

"And yet there you are, touching them,"

"Kreacher would burn them all if he could," he told her with a toothy scowl, "but he promised to keep this noble house tidy. Kreacher wishes he'd been told to clean the house. Then he could have destroyed all of the nasty things. Kreacher does as he's told and so he tidies the foul traitor's things."

"Well you don't have to do it anymore," Ginny told him. "I'll finish. You can run off to wherever it is you go."

Kreacher turned his back to her and hung the last set of robes. Hermione stepped into the room and frowned as Ginny shouted, "Didn't you hear me, Kreacher? I told you to go." Kreacher just ignored her. Ginny started walking toward him, but Hermione stopped her.

"Not now, Ginny. There are more important things to waste your energy on." She forced Ginny down onto one of the benches and tossed the days _Daily Prophet_ on the table in front of her. Ginny immediately saw what had brought Hermione to Grimmauld Place.

Across the top of the page, there was a wide photo of the intersection of the main street in Giza and the alley that led to the Romanian palace. There were craters and black scorch marks all over. In the center of the street, there were two bodies in dull colored robes. Above it, in bold letters was the headline:

_**Eleven Dead in Giza Attacks**_

Ginny grabbed it from the table and began reading.

_A series of violent attacks left eleven wizards dead on the eve of the most recent Quidditch World Cup Site Selection Convention._

_While many of the delegates were busy with last minute deals and debates, tragedy struck in the heart of Giza where over a hundred wizards had gathered to select the next location of the Quidditch World Cup. Officials were tight lipped about the details of the attacks, but the causes are simple enough to understand._

_Sometime that evening, a group of Egyptian wizards broke into the French camp, angry over something the French Delegation's head wizard had done. A disagreement quickly escalated to an outright attack when the head wizard attempted to protect an Egyptian witch who had stumbled into the argument. Henri D'Anneau died trying to protect Hahnet Sebiti._

"That's a lie," Ginny said, pointing Hermione to the last sentence.

_Other wizards in the camp heard the attack and tried to stop the attacking wizards. Sabine D'Anneau, wife of Henri D'Anneau and fellow delegate, Sophie La Pierre, another French delegate, and Gerhardt Okham, the head of the British delegation, died while trying to detain the attackers._

_When Egyptian guards arrived, the attackers were already fleeing. They followed them to a side alley where another battle erupted. A number of convention wizards became surrounded by the fighting. A pair of Egyptian wizards died trying to protect them, but they were not completely successful. Lawrence MacClintock, a British wizard acting as the convention's record keeper was struck with a Killing Curse. Tiberiu Amanar and Stefan Buscan, both Romanian delegates, were killed as they tried to find shelter, and a British witch, Ginevra Weasley, an attendant to the French delegation, succumbed to multiple hexes as the attackers were overwhelmed by guards._

Ginny stopped and stared at the page in front of her, then turned to Hermione. "It's all fiction," she said as if she were afraid Hermione wouldn't believe her. "That's not how it happened."

Hermione nodded. "I think I figured that part out for myself. Keep reading."

_The attacking wizards were finally cornered in an abandoned pub nearby, and imprisoned pending trial in Egypt. Only a single attacker was killed. Officials are not releasing the wizard's name, but they have said that he was acting as an attendant to the Bulgarian delegation._

_The attacks have caused yet another delay in the voting for a final site of next year's Quidditch World Cup. With three of the five French delegates dead, it is unknown exactly what will be done. The French ministry has yet to comment. It is unknown whether they will be able to fill the vacant positions._

_Other Ministries have already expressed deep concern over the suspected involvement of the Bulgarian delegation. Several of Bulgaria's strongest supporters are now refusing to say just how they plan to vote in the next convention. Representatives from Bulgaria insist that they had no part in the attacks and refuse to take responsibility for the actions of their attendant._

_Gerhardt Okham had been a firm supporter of the Bulgarian delegation, but it was reported that he had spent much of that afternoon speaking with his delegation about his own concerns over supporting Bulgaria in the upcoming vote. The British Ministry is currently searching for a witch or wizard to take Okham's position._

_The next convention has been tentatively set for two weeks from the coming Friday. It will be held in Bremen, Germany. Representatives from the German Ministry report that they can guarantee a tragedy like this will not occur again._

Ginny put the pages back down on the table and looked at Hermione. "They're covering it all up. I don't think the Bulgarians had anything to do with it."

"Even if you shouted that for the next two weeks, it wouldn't matter," Hermione replied. "The damage is done. After all the bickering between France and Bulgaria, it wouldn't take anything to convince everyone that it was Bulgaria's fault."

Ginny looked down at the _Prophet_ again. "I didn't know she was his wife," Ginny said softly. Hermione gave her a strange look. "This witch, Sabine," Ginny explained. "I met her. She usually looked miserable. D'Anneau said they shared a room, but I just figured she was another... well, I didn't know. The whole thing feels somewhat worse. I wonder if she was killed so they could make up whatever story they wanted. You're right, no one would even believe me if I told them the truth."

"It's a bit worse than that," Hermione said slowly. "What were you planning on doing today?"

Ginny gave her a confused look. "I'm staying here. The Brotherhood will be looking for me. I don't want to have to show myself until I have to."

"Well, that sounds relaxing enough, but it's still quite a bit more active than most dead witches," Hermione said as she pointed to Ginny's name in the article. "Your father is reading this right now. So is Harrington. Are you going to let them think you're dead?"

Ginny collapsed onto the table. They'd planned this, too. The Brotherhood knew she'd lived, and they knew she'd found someplace to hide. So they told the world that she was dead, and now they'd wait for her to surface.

"I'm not going to do it," she said into the table. "I'm not going to step back into their trap. Find the twins. Tell them the truth, and have them get word to my parents. I'm going to stay here until the evening. I have an errand I need to run then. I'll be safe. Tell my parents I'll be staying with you for the next couple of weeks. They won't argue."

Ginny paced impatiently about Number Twelve Grimmauld Place the entire day. She ventured into the cellar around noon and mixed a mild sleeping potion which she hoped would put her to sleep until that night. It didn't really work as she hoped, but she had passed an hour of time making it and had gotten two good hours of sleep.

She couldn't help but wonder how the Brotherhood had gotten enough power and control that they could simply write their own version of the previous night's events. Why would they want to? Why were they so eager to find Ginny? There was only one thing that seemed to make sense.

Ginny hadn't touched it since the previous night, but she knew it was still there in her pocket: a plain golden ring on a simple chain. Is that what they wanted? Could it be the reason they were so eager to find out where she was?

There was only one person who might be able to help her. If she talked to anyone else about it, they would only become a target, but no one believed a thing Albert said anyway. No one would really care if he started babbling about a conspiracy to raise a new Dark Lord, and yet, he had known about the Brotherhood. If Ginny asked the right questions, he might answer them. She just needed to wait a while longer. Once most Ministry employees had left, the Leaky Cauldron would get busy, and loud. She'd be able to talk to Albert about whatever she wanted.

Six o' clock came, and Ginny still didn't leave. She convinced herself to wait just a little longer. Finally, after another twenty minutes of waiting, she walked out the door. Seeing no one else around, she walked across the street and Apparated to the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

The moment she walked into the crowded pub, she wondered if she'd made a mistake. It took only seconds for someone to see her and recognize her. The news spilled across the room, spread by pointed fingers and whispered comments. Tom was frozen in place and nearly dropped the large mug he held in his hand.

Slowly, he woke up as Ginny walked toward the bar. He slid a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ toward her. "You, er, might want to read through that. I think you'll find it pretty interesting."

"Don't believe everything you read," Ginny replied with a casual smile. Tom smiled back and nodded. He offered her a drink, but Ginny wasn't paying attention anymore. She was scanning the bar. He wasn't here. The place where Albert always sat was occupied by a pair of laughing witches. Ginny turned back to Tom, who was still watching her as if she might be a ghost.

"Have you seen Albert?"

"Albert?" Tom replied confusedly. "Oh, him! The one the lads call Lord Albert?" Ginny nodded quickly. "He's been coming in and out all day. He asked about you this afternoon. I think he was actually a bit sad about the news. I suppose we all were, but he seemed particularly upset. Anyway, he lost his seat to those two, but he took a table in the back, there." Tom pointed into one of the dimmer corners of the room, and Ginny could faintly see the shape of a man wearing a tall hat and leaning back in his chair.

She slowly weaved her way between the tables and chairs, eventually walking up to the table where Albert was sitting. In front of him was a half-empty glass of liquid and a copy of the same _Daily Prophet_ Hermione and Tom had showed her. He gave her a quick smile, and gestured for her to join him.

"You don't look surprised to see me," she said as she sat down.

"I don't?" he replied as if he wasn't so sure himself. With a shrug, he continued, "I guess I'm not. I figured you might be in a little later today, with the vote and all."

"Didn't you read that?" Ginny said, pointing at the article in front of him. "It says I'm dead."

Albert sat back and gave her a thoughtful look. "Well, it's not like it's the first time. I had a friend who died once. You seem to be handling it better than he did, though." Albert emptied his glass and started filling it again. "I tried to discuss it with him, but I think he was terribly embarrassed about the whole business. He never talked about it. I told him he should, but he just ignored me. We sort of grew apart as friends."

Ginny stared at him in bewilderment. After a moment, she forced herself to continue. "Albert, I'm not dead. What they wrote in that article, it's not true."

"'Course it's not!" he barked. "How could anyone believe Henri D'Anneau was trying to save some innocent witch who just happened to cross paths with him at the wrong time? A better guess would be that she stumbled from his bedchamber at a horribly inconvenient time. It's about time he paid for his crimes. Pity his wife had to pay as well. She was a fine witch."

Ginny didn't want to get distracted, but she hadn't expected that Albert had known Sabine. "Why did she marry him? Didn't she know about him?"

Albert drank another glass, and stared at Ginny with an almost mournful expression. "I imagine she did," he said. "She was as clever and powerful as she was beautiful. There were hordes of wizards who wished they could have married her. I even asked her to marry me, once. I'm pretty sure she turned me down. Hard to tell, though. My French has always been pretty bad." He shook his head and poured another glass for himself. "It wouldn't have mattered. Henri D'Anneau always gets what he wants."

"But she hated him."

"And since when does that prevent two people from marrying?" Albert retorted. "There was a time when she was his superior. In many ways, I suppose she always was. I meant there was a time when he took orders from her, but she didn't have the ambition he had. It didn't take long before he was the one in charge, and before you knew it, they were married. Terrible shame. She barely spoke after that. Well, at least she's free of that now."

For a moment they simply sat there in an uncomfortable silence. Ginny hadn't come there to talk about Sabine's death. Now that she was there, however, it wasn't as easy as she'd expected it would be. "I think I need something to drink," she announced.

Albert smiled and nodded. "Of course you do. Dying can be so tiring. You stay here, and I'll fetch you a butterbeer."

"No," Ginny called out, stopping him. "I think I'll just have some of that," she said, pointing at the bottle in his hand.

With an expression that looked to be a mixture of a smile and a frown, Albert pulled a second glass from his pocket and quickly filled it. "You didn't come here just to relax, did you?" he asked softly. "This isn't a drink for relaxing. This is a drink for business."

Ginny just nodded and gingerly picked up the glass. It felt so much heavier than it should have, almost as if her arm remembered the last time it had lifted that glass and was trying to keep her from making that mistake again. With one last burst of effort she tipped it back and swallowed.

The sensation was not remarkably different than the first time she'd drank it. She closed her eyes tightly and strained against the urge to cough or collapse onto the table in front of her. As it reached her stomach the heat spread, until her robes felt chilly against her skin. A slight fog filled her mind, but the world around her seemed to slow down. It did have a bizarrely relaxing feel. After a pair of hectic days, this slower paced world felt much more comfortable.

"I know who killed Henri D'Anneau," she whispered.

"So do I," Albert whispered back.

Ginny didn't know what to say. She'd imagined several responses to her revelation, but that hadn't been one of them. "But... how— how do you know? No one knows the Brotherhood was even there."

"The Brotherhood, eh?" Albert said with a frown. "They were the one's who did it?"

"Wait— I thought you said you knew who did it?"

"I do," Albert said. "I just didn't know how. Claiming that the Brotherhood killed Henri D'Anneau is no different than leaping off a broom and blaming your death on the ground. Henri D'Anneau jumped from his broom a long time ago. I'm frankly surprised it took him this long to hit the ground."

"Do you know _why_ they killed him?" Ginny asked.

"There are many possible reasons," Albert told her, "but it's best if you don't go looking for them. If you start telling everyone what you know, it won't be long until this article is true."

"It's already started," Ginny whispered.

"Has it?"

"Yes," she hissed. "I spoke with... a friend. He started telling me about the Brotherhood, but we were attacked. I escaped, and when I tried to leave the city, they attacked me again. They tried to kill me."

For a second, Albert's eyes seemed to flash in anger. "They must have thought you were a problem that needed fixing. I remember the stories well enough. They've killed wizards, but never so carelessly as this," he said, holding up the _Daily Prophet_. "You're certain they were trying to kill you and not someone else?"

"They're following a new Dark Lord," Ginny whispered as quietly as she could.

"A Dark Lord?" Albert replied, louder than Ginny would have wanted him to.

"Yes, I escaped from him and ran back to my room. When I came out, they ambushed me. They killed one wizard and tried to kill me. I... I tricked them. It was dark. I made them attack one of their own wizards. It was the Killing Curse," Ginny told him. "It was supposed to hit me." Albert simply sat and stared at her. It was the first time Ginny could remember seeing him hold an empty glass.

"They left, but their master came from me. I took something —something he wanted." She slowly reached into her robes and pulled out the ring on the chain. She carefully placed it on the table in front of her.

"Where did you get that?" hissed Albert.

"I pulled it off the wizard I killed," Ginny explained. "The Dark Lord, he wanted it. I don't know what it is or what it does, but he wouldn't attack me while I was holding it. You've seen it before, haven't you?"

"I've seen something like it, yeah," he answered quickly. "Get rid of it! Quickly! Don't let anyone else know you've got it."

"Why does he want it?" Ginny asked as she slowly picked it up.

"How would I know?" Albert replied. "Why would you care? It doesn't matter. You must get rid of it. You have no idea what kind of danger you'll be in if they find out you've got that."

"What is it?"

"It's an omen of your death if you don't get rid of it as soon as you can," he hissed at her. "They won't stop searching for it."

"If I get rid of it, won't they assume I still have it anyway?" Ginny replied. "How will they know I don't have it?"

"They'll know, Ginny," Albert said seriously. "Please. You must not keep it."

Ginny slipped the ring back into her pocket and slowly stood up. "I suppose I should be going, then."

"Do you have someplace safe to stay tonight?" he asked her before she left. "Is there someplace secret where you can hide? If there isn't, I will purchase a room for you here."

"No, that's alright," Ginny said courteously. "I've got someplace I can go."

"The Black House?"

Ginny froze and stared at Albert. "How do you know that name?"

"You said it before," he replied innocently. "The night you left here after a little too much Firewhiskey, you mentioned it. I remember hearing about a Black Castle near Dover, but not a Black House in London."

"Oh, it's nothing famous," she told him. "It's just a house."

"I hope it's as safe as you believe it to be," he said with a frown. "Go on. Get rid of that... thing."

Ginny walked out of the pub feeling only a little dizzy. She didn't know what she'd expected to learn from Albert, but she still felt slightly disappointed. Whatever the ring was, it seemed to be important. Before she left, she ducked into a dark corner and retrieved both the ring and her wand from her pockets. She waved the wand over it as Tonks had told her, but it didn't glow at all. She tried again, and then a third time. There didn't seem to be any Tracking Charms on it. Maybe Albert was just being paranoid.

She Apparated to the alley across from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and walked to the house. Inside, it was dark and quiet. After checking the entire house, and finding nothing, she dropped into bed. She'd been tricked by Albert's superstition. She was certain that he was at least right about the Brotherhood wanting it back, but there was no way they could know if she'd gotten rid of it. If it was that important to them, she might be able to use it to her advantage.

She slowly drifted off to sleep, trying to push all thoughts of the next day from her mind. She'd have to talk to Harrington, but with any luck the rumors of her survival would have reached him by then.

The next morning she woke up on her own. Neither Kreacher nor Hermione were there to poke her into consciousness and tell her of some new problem she must avoid. It was still quite early, but she wanted to get to the Ministry as quickly as she could. The fewer wizards around to see her arrival the better it would be. After a quick breakfast, she left the house and Disapparated.

The Ministry was just as deserted as she'd hoped it would be. The small number of witches and wizards who were there seemed to pay little attention to her. Only the guard at the desk by the gate seemed to realize who she was, and all he did was stare at her in surprise. She jumped into a mostly empty lift and tried to attract as little attention as possible until she reached her destination.

As she walked down the short corridor to the Department of International Magical Cooperation, she felt strangely anxious. There wasn't much she could do. She knew she couldn't hide forever, but there was a certain amount of appeal to the idea. As she turned the corner, she saw Carmilla sitting quietly at her desk, scribbling notes on a large calendar.

"Good morning, Miss Weasley," she said casually as she dipped her quill in her ink well.

"Er... Hello," Ginny replied hesitantly. "Is there... er... anything I'm supposed to do?"

"Oh! Yes—of course," Carmilla answered cheerfully. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot. These schedules can get so complex that I barely pay attention to the world around me," she laughed. "You've got a meeting with Mr. Harrington and Mrs. Reading at nine to discuss your recent death."

Ginny stood there for a moment, trying to understand what was happening. After a few seconds, she decided to simply accept it and wait to see what Harrington and Mrs. Reading had to say. "Er... thanks, Carmilla," she said as she turned and walked away.

She found her cubicle looking just the way she left it. The piles of folders and loose parchment were useless to her now. Whatever was happening, she doubted she'd be working with any French wizards in the near future. If she was lucky, Evelyn hadn't come in yet, and she could drop them off without having to face her.

Carefully stacking all of them into a single column, she lifted them off her desk and began shuffling toward Evelyn's office. When she was almost there, she put the stack down on a nearby chair and inched toward the door. A quick peek told her that Evelyn's office was deserted. With a relieved smile, she returned and trudged into the room with the mountain of parchment. After setting it down on the desk, she stood up, straightened her robes and turned to leave. Evelyn Sibley was standing in the doorway.

"You're alive," she announced in the same tone one might announce the discovery of an infestation of doxies.

"So are you," Ginny said in response. "I guess that makes us even."

"Did you sort those before dropping them on my desk?"

"No," Ginny replied. "Did you?"

Evelyn smiled threateningly and slowly walked into the room. "You think you're pretty clever now, don't you? You ran off on your little assignment and even got to cheat death. Did you expect us to call you the Girl Who Lived? Are you trying to be like him, now? Do you think that we'll all start worshiping you just because you've got shiny hair and you know how to run away from battles? What a disgrace. At least he didn't run from his battles."

"You shut up about him," Ginny said through clenched teeth.

"Touched a nerve, have I?" Evelyn purred. "Have you ever wondered what happened to him? What if he didn't really die? What if he just didn't want to come back to you? Why would he want to? He could have anyone he wanted. Do you really think that no one is prettier than you are? Or did you convince yourself that he liked you for who you were? If he really loved you, why didn't he come to save you?"

Ginny glared at her. "How dare you—"

"You don't fool me," Evelyn whispered. "You can't just flip your hair and think I'll believe whatever you say. Go. Do your dance for Ferdinand and Cordelia. But you'd better watch yourself. The Ministry of Magic can be a tough place to work if you don't have the right friends, and your friends don't seem to have the best luck."

Ginny walked out of Evelyn's office filled with an impotent rage. There truly was nothing she could do. Evelyn would never be sacked. Fighting back would only make her even more angry. Ginny walked back to her cubicle. She still had another forty minutes before her meeting. She sat down and stared blankly at her desk.

Why hadn't Harry come to help her yet? If he was alive, why hadn't he even tried to contact her? Ginny fell forward and tried to think of anything else. Maybe he really was gone. Maybe he had lived, but he'd simply left. Maybe she was silly to think that he wouldn't want to live without her.

For forty minutes, she sat and tried to think of anything else. That's exactly what Evelyn wanted, she told herself. She should be thinking about what she was going to say to Harrington, but her mind wouldn't obey. When Mrs. Reading finally arrived, Ginny scolded herself for being so completely unprepared.

She walked into Harrington's office expecting the worst. She'd fled from her job, She hadn't told him anything. At the very best, she expected to be yelled at for quite some time. Instead, Harrington seemed to be restraining his anger almost completely.

"Good morning, Ginny," he said casually. "I hope you know just how pleased I am to see you here this morning. We were quite worried about you. The initial reports from Giza... were not good. When I saw yesterday's article, we began to fear the worst, but last night I got an owl saying that you were at the Leaky Cauldron. Where were you until then? You weren't in Giza all that time, were you?"

Ginny looked down at her feet. She didn't want to lie to him now. This was the first time he'd ever treated her with respect. "I... I was hiding someplace safe. It's here in England. It's not far away."

"Good, good," Harrington said with a nod. "Normally we'd ask that you report such events to the Ministry immediately, but under the circumstances I think you were well justified. I've been speaking with Reynard, and from what I was able to figure out, it seems there was more to the attacks than the _Daily Prophet_ reported. Is that true?"

Ginny nodded.

"Would you be willing to tell us what really happened?"

Ginny looked at the two of them. "I'd really rather not," she said.

"As the head of this department, I could order you to," Harrington told her in a very official tone.

"It's not that," Ginny replied. "Everyone I talked to about this —everyone of any importance— they were all attacked. "I don't think it would be wise to tell you what I told them."

Ginny expected Harrington to bristle at this comment, but instead he appeared to accept it. "Perhaps you're right," he told her. "The Department of Mysteries may still wish to speak with you. They have wizards who care less about their safety than I do. And while I will trust your judgment in this matter, you should trust my judgement that it is unwise for you to be the only one who knows just what happened down there.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Miss Weasley," he said gravely. "I hope that you know what you're doing, and I hope you're paying attention to what's happening around you. You won't always get what you want. Sooner or later, you'll run into someone who's got more power or more luck than you, and you may not like the result. Henri D'Anneau thought he could get anything he wished, and look where it got him."

"I'm nothing like D'Anneau," Ginny responded.

"Maybe not, but you're walking down the same path. Some wizards work for years before they get the opportunities you have. That alone will make you enemies. The more noise you make on your way up, the more wizards there are who will work to keep you down, and you have been making quite a bit of noise recently."

Harrington paused to see if Ginny would react. When she didn't, he leaned forward and continued. "You've been extremely lucky lately. Luckier than anyone else I've seen in your position," he said in a low voice. "I've never believed in luck. In my opinion, it's simply a combination of drive and patience. So, the question is, what exactly are you trying to achieve, Miss Weasley? What is it that you're trying to get? Money? Fame? A better office?"

"I don't want anything," Ginny told him. "All I ever wanted was a job. I didn't ask for any of this to happen to me."

Harrington threw a frustrated glance at Mrs. Reading. "Fine, then. It looks as if today is going to be a very busy day. I have an appointment with the Minister, but I'll need you to answer a few more questions before I leave."

Ginny gave Mrs. Reading a questioning look and she replied with a smile and a faint nod. Ginny nodded to Harrington.

"The tragic death of Gerhardt Okham has left a vacancy in the British delegation to the upcoming World Cup Convention. Despite my objections, the Department of Magical Games and the other delegates themselves are requesting that you fill that position. Naturally you would not be the head of the delegation, but that does not mean it will be easy work. Would you accept this position if it were offered to you? Think carefully, Miss Weasley, and remember what I told you."

Ginny thought for a moment. Why did it sound like Harrington thought she had somehow planned this? Did he think that she had some part in Okham's death? She'd never do that. She couldn't even imagine how she might have accomplished such a thing.

She considered turning it down just to prove that Harrington was wrong about her. The thought of being attacked again didn't really appeal to her either, but she didn't like the idea of simply sitting where she was and waiting for the Brotherhood to attack her. A second thought crept into her mind. Tarus had suggested that he'd come to the last convention because she was going to be there. If she was one of the British delegates, would he return? Wouldn't she but putting them both in danger?

Of course she would, but that didn't matter. They were already in danger. Tarus would come if he felt he needed to, and if he did, Ginny would find a way to continue their conversation. With a feeling of grim determination, she looked back at Harrington.

"Yes, I'll do it," she answered with cold determination. "I mean, I would do it, if it was offered to me," she corrected.

Harrington shook his head and sighed. "Of course you would. Do you believe you could be adequately prepared for the next convention in just two weeks?"

"Yes, I think so," Ginny answered.

"Then you've got a meeting to go to. They're already waiting for you in the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

* * *

Author's Note: 

Since so many people wrote in to beg for another chapter, I actually remembered to post this. I had forgotten, so if anyone else is out there reading, they can thank kate, sara, fari and gohan8k for this chapter. I would have forgotten about it without them.

Chapter 10 was supposed to be a load of fun, but then I cut Chapter 9 in half, so the old Chapter 10 is now Chapter 11. So Chapter 11 is going to be a load of fun and Chapter 10 is going to be more information and a little bit of suspense and intrigue.

You know... just something to look forward to.

Of course, if any of you would actually email me your comments (or begging), you'd get a more prompt response. The last person to do that got a load of teasers for the upcoming chapters. I like hearing what everyone is thinking and guessing. It actually makes it easier to write the chapters. So, if you help me out, I do my best to reward you. Still... there's no obligation. I'll write the chapters whether you do or not, so don't worry about me abandoning this because no one is coming out to play with me.

If you need or want proof that I can finish a story, check out the previous monster I wrote (320,000 words). On second thought, don't check it out. It's depressing and written in a different tone and for a different purpose than this story. Just take my word for it. The story will be completed.


	10. Three Ensnared Dragons

**Chapter 10**

**Three Ensnared Dragons**

The decision had been simple enough to make at the time. She'd agreed to do it if only out of a strange desire to understand what had happened at the last convention. She hadn't expected the amount of work she'd be forced to actually do. She spent the first three days doing nothing more than sitting in small rooms and listening to the rest of the delegation.

Much to her annoyance, she couldn't even find a good place to relax after her days were over. She had been forced to avoid the Leaky Cauldron after a pair of reporters attempted to ambush her and force her to recount her heroic story of survival. When she refused to talk to them, they took up residence in the small pub and waited for her to return. Albert had warned her about them as he stood outside the entrance, failing to look inconspicuous.

After four days of waiting, they finally gave up and wrote a rather inaccurate article about her, explaining how brave and resourceful she had been to survive the attacks. It would have been almost flattering had they not included a number of paragraphs about how frightened and paranoid she had become after her escape from death.

Most of the wizards around her seemed to accept this story. She was treated with a level of kindness and sensitivity that she found truly annoying. More wizards around the Ministry were taking note of her. There was no longer any question in her mind about whether she was being followed or watched. She was always being watched or followed, but now it was so much harder to tell who they were and why they were doing it.

Some wizards had reacted quite differently, including all of the delegates she was working with. Two of them treated her with some sort of detached reverence, as if she were somehow more knowledgeable or wise than they were. The other two acted warily around her, as if she were some omen of ill fate. All of them showed a similarly stiff version of courtesy as they tried to tell her all the useless things they assumed she wanted to know.

She honestly didn't know what they thought they were accomplishing. There wasn't much of a point in teaching her anything. As the last few days before the vote passed by, they spent much of their time discussing their expectations of the French and Bulgarians. The more news they heard from other delegations, the less important the whole thing seemed. Even if the attacks hadn't occurred, France would have been selected. Now, with the Bulgarians being investigated for their part in the attacks, the possibility of them even holding enough votes to delay the vote again was dropping quickly.

The other British delegates were all going to vote for France. It wouldn't really matter who she voted for, yet as she walked toward the Burrow from the hill overlooking it, she found herself debating which she should choose. She had never known the selection of the World Cup Championship was so political. After everything she read, she still had trouble understanding just why there had been such strong disagreements this time.

In any other year, there wouldn't have been such debate. Bulgaria would have been chosen without much ceremony. They had been the favorite from the very beginning. For months, no other countries had even expressed interest in opposing them. Perhaps that was what had inspired France and Romania to try. Why would a country that had been such a favorite resorted to such horrible measures to win? Had they become that corrupted? At Giza, Ginny had argued that they had, but did she really believe that?

As the last few days slipped by, Ginny found her sleep to be more and more troubled. Her dreams were haunted by thoughts and memories of all the things she'd been told and warned about. Threading its way through all of them was a single vein of doubt that she could not ignore. She would be the youngest delegate at the convention. She'd only played Quidditch for a short time. She'd been working for the Ministry for less than two months.

Everything that had happened to her had led her to this. Was it all just a coincidence? Or was it fate? Albert had said that he could see that she would become a great witch, but maybe Harrington was right about it happening a little too quickly. She had thought that she'd escaped a trap in Giza, but perhaps she'd only stepped into a different one.

Two days before the next ―and almost certainly final― vote, Ginny and the rest of the British delegation gathered in the deserted Entrance Hall of the Ministry. Like the Giza convention, they would be traveling to Germany via the Floo.

They waited in silence for a witch from the German Ministry to appear and inform them that their fireplace had been connected to the large castle outside Bremen where the convention was to take place. Ginny sat somewhat apart from the others. They had never really gotten used to her, and Ginny was becoming increasingly unnerved by the odd way they behaved around her. She was wearing a fresh set of Shield Robes and wrapped in a newly made Shield Cloak, which Fred and George insisted she wear at all times. As she looked into the empty fireplace, she felt an odd twinge of fear.

The fireplace suddenly blazed forth with a bright green flame, creating an eerie green flash which brought horrible memories flooding back to her. She could still remember the warmth of his robes as she clung to them, the panicked confusion as he tried to push her away, and the unnatural limpness of his vacant corpse as it dropped to the ground with her. She loathed her own memories, and wished she could escape them. A talented Obliviator could make her forget, perhaps, but nothing could ever repair the damage. It wasn't a memory of the past which she feared, it was the possibility of it happening again and the horrible knowledge that if it did, she would be capable of killing another wizard. What had she done to deserve this?

"Miss Weasley? Are you alright?"

Ginny awoke from her thoughts with a start. A kindly looking witch was kneeling in front of her with a concerned look on her face. The other delegates were queued up in front of the fireplace. The first one had already gone.

"You're not feeling ill, are you dear?" the witch asked.

"N-No," Ginny replied shakily. "No, it's just really early."

"Yes, I know," the witch replied with a smile. "We're terribly sorry, but we're not willing to take any chances this time. It's for the best, I assure you. We'll see that nothing happens to you," With a surprisingly firm grip, the witch pulled Ginny to her feet and shrank her traveling chest (which had eventually been returned by the Egyptian Ministry). She smiled and patted Ginny on the shoulder. "Just step into the fire and say _The Weserburg_." After taking a couple of deep breaths, Ginny stepped into the queue.

The Weserburg was a truly gigantic castle which overlooked a large river. In many ways it felt like Hogwarts. Similar wards made it invisible to the Muggles living nearby. The entire castle was currently overrun with officials and delegates and a small army of guards and other security wizards.

The French, British, Romanian and Bulgarian delegations had all be assigned to separate towers with a group of wizards guarding the door to each. It seemed almost excessive considering the difficulty everyone had getting in. The moment she'd come through the fireplace in the Weserburg, she'd been mobbed by no less than four wizards. One had asked for her identification while the other three ran through books of charms and detection spells.

They'd been escorted to their tower where they had spent the rest of the day. It was spacious enough, and each of them had large comfortable rooms to sleep in. The time was slow to pass, however, and she found little comfort in her companions. They would speak to each other when she wasn't around, but when she was they would quickly become very businesslike. Ginny had tried speaking to them about other things but they didn't seem eager to respond to her.

To describe her first day at the Weserburg as uninteresting would have been as appropriate as describing Albert's drink of choice as refreshing. House elves served them lunch and dinner, but no one else entered or left the tower all day. The other delegates told her the next day would be more interesting, but there really wasn't any way for it to be less interesting.

Ginny slept much later than she realized the next morning. She took her time washing up and when she came down to the main room of the tower, she found the rest of the delegates sitting in chairs and chatting with one of the wizards from the French delegation.

For a moment she was upset that she'd been left out, but the French wizard quickly explained that he'd been sent to speak with all of them and that he did not mind waiting for Ginny. Now that Ginny had arrived there was some formal exchange of rolls of parchment and the French wizard explained that the French delegation wanted to speak with them, but they could not set a time.

This seemed to trigger a reaction in the head of the British delegation. Ginny couldn't tell if he was offended or simply confused. Once the French wizard had left, Ginny summoned the courage to ask him about it.

"Don't they usually request a meeting at a specific time?"

The head of the delegation, a wizard named Hermanson, frowned and nodded. "They do," he said with obvious confusion. "It doesn't make any sense. They must want to speak with you. I can't see why they wouldn't want to do it as soon as possible. Why else would he have waited here for you?"

"Why do the French want to speak with me?" Ginny asked.

"_Everyone_ wants to speak with you," he told her, "but all of them think it's inappropriate to do so before the French delegates get their chance."

"But why does anyone care what I think?"

"It's not what you think, but what you know," Hermanson said with an apologetic expression. "You were in the middle of the attacks. Whether it's true or not, everyone assumes you know who was responsible. If you openly support France, there will be even fewer delegates who will be willing to argue in support of Bulgaria."

"I don't think Bulgaria had anything to do with the attacks," Ginny said, surprising herself with the declaration.

"That doesn't matter," he said with a shrug. "Only the appearance matters. Even if you know the Bulgarians had no part in any of it, I'd be shocked to hear that you'd suddenly support Bulgaria. As long as you're not saying anything, Germany and other countries will still stand by them. Once your opinion is known ―no matter what it's based on― it will affect the other delegates."

Ginny looked up and found the other delegates staring at her. "What if I say that I haven't made a decision?"

Hermanson laughed. "Don't worry too much about it, Miss Weasley. I don't think it really matters. The French would have won in Giza and the Bulgarians haven't won any more votes since then. I just figured the French would want to make everything clearer. This move is unexpected. If I didn't know better, I'd guess that there is a bit of a struggle occurring within the French delegation."

As the day wore on, Hermanson's words were confirmed as only one other delegate came to speak with them, and even then it was only to ask whether they had spoken with the French delegation.

By the time the house elves arrived with their supper, the rest of the British delegates were looking quite frustrated. It didn't make sense to Ginny. They all knew who they were planning to vote for. It wasn't as if the French really needed to convince them of anything. As the sun went down, they began speaking more openly of their concerns.

"Something has happened," Hermanson declared. "The French said they wanted to meet with us, and it's not going to happen. Something is changing and I want to know what it is. It's too late to try and figure out what it is tonight. I will have more news before we report for the vote tomorrow, I promise."

He pulled aside one of the younger members of the delegation and spoke with him privately for a few moments before sending him out of the tower on some errand. The rest of them sat around the room waiting in a tense silence for something to happen. A half hour later, the delegate Hermanson had sent out returned looking hopeful but without any news for them.

Her second day truly hadn't been any more interesting than the first, and more importantly, Ginny hadn't even had a chance to leave the tower. There was no sign of Grigore Tarus, either. The other delegates had confirmed that he had not been one of the wizards chosen as attendants and he had not been selected as one of the officials. The day had been a complete loss.

Ginny went to bed early, hoping to at least avoid oversleeping again. If Hermanson was right and something important really was happening, she wanted to be as alert as possible when she finally heard just what it was. Her dreams that night were haunted with visions of dragons, crippled and snarling at armies of wizards slowly surrounding them.

She woke up early the day of the vote. She hoped everyone else was right and this would be the final vote. It had been a horribly boring and tense pair of days and she was certain she didn't want to go through it again.

She was the first of the British delegates to wake up and she almost enjoyed watching the sunrise out the tower windows. After two days in a tower and no idea what was happening around her, the simplicity of the rising sun was comforting.

After an hour or so, the other delegates started coming down to join her. The house elves came and laid out a number of platters piled with food for breakfast. They ate in silence and waited for Hermanson, the only delegate who hadn't come down, to join them.

An hour before they were supposed to report to the Grand Hall on the second floor of the keep, Hermanson finally walked into the main room. He looked a little pale and not terribly healthy. He sat down and began chewing on a roll.

"The French delegation spent almost all of yesterday talking with the officials," he explained between bites. "It seems there was some discussion about who was truly part of their delegation. It sounds as if someone arrived the night before and filed a complaint. I don't suppose it would be below the Bulgarians to do something like that. Still, it won't make them any friends."

They questioned him more about what he'd heard, but there had been little else. Somehow, Hermanson had gotten a message to one of the officials and the official had sent a secret message back with one of the House Elves. He hadn't been able to say much more than Hermanson had shared with them. It wasn't all that much information, but it did at least explain why the French delegates had not seen them the day before.

When the time came, a group of guards came and escorted them all to the Keep where they took their seats around one of many evenly spaced round tables in an expansive and cavernous hall. Around each table were five chairs, and on the table in front of each of them was a large glass goblet and a single, round stone. Ginny took her seats with the rest of the British delegates and watched as the rest of the delegations filed into the hall.

After ten minutes or more, the wizards stopped arriving and the sound of the locking doors echoed throughout the hall. One of the officials walked to a large podium and began reading a very official, extremely boring document.

Ginny ignored him. She'd already read about this five or more times. When her country was called, she'd walk to the officials table at the head of the hall and drop her stone into one of two bowls. It wasn't difficult to do or understand, so she took the opportunity to look about the room.

Others seemed to be doing the very same thing. There was a faint murmur of whispering about the room and a few discrete gestures toward the front of the hall. Ginny followed the nods and glances and found the French delegation sitting around a larger table with a tall candle at the center of their table. She recognized the wizard who had visited them the day before. Then she realized that she recognized more than just that wizard.

Sitting with her back to the wizard at the podium and staring directly back at her was a blonde witch whose face Ginny could not forget.

It was Sabine D'Anneau.

Their eyes met for a moment and they recognized the surprise in each other's faces. Ginny pulled her eyes away and found that many of the other wizards in the hall were staring at her as well. The _Daily Prophet_ had said she was dead. Should it be that surprising? The _Prophet_ had said she too had died that night. If they made one mistake, how much harder could it be to make two?

The first of the delegations was making its way toward the officials table and dropping their votes in the bowls. In the noise of chairs being moved about and boots walking across the stone floor, wizards were beginning to speak to each other in low tones.

"I didn't know she was alive," Ginny whispered.

"No one did," Hermanson replied. "She didn't arrive with the rest of the French delegation. She must have been the one who arrived last night. If she's still alive, it would mean that one of the other delegates would have to be removed. That would explain what we heard about yesterday."

Ginny watched Sabine as she walked to the officials table and dropped her vote in the Bulgarian bowl. A hush fell across the hall as everyone tried to understand just what the gesture had meant.

Something bizarre was happening. Sabine didn't have to return. It was already obvious that France would win this vote. She had come back for some other reason, and Ginny found that she was terribly curious about what it might be.

When the British delegation was called, Ginny took her place at the end of the queue and rolled the small stone sphere about in her hand. Why had Sabine voted for Bulgaria? Why had she disappeared? A horrible thought came to her as Hermanson dropped his vote into the French bowl. They had reported Ginny's death as well. Hermione had said they'd wanted to draw her out of hiding. Maybe they'd done the same for Sabine. Could it be that she was being followed and hunted just as Ginny was? Perhaps she knew something that made her a threat to the Brotherhood. How could Ginny talk to her? How could she let her know that she wanted to talk with her?

As she walked to the two bowls, the answer came to her. She held the small stone ball in her hand, and dropped it directly into the Bulgarian bowl. A second hush swept across the hall, and when Ginny turned to walk back to her table, she found Sabine D'Anneau staring at her with a look of surprise and curiosity. It had worked. Now it would be up to her to find some way to contact Ginny. Ginny certainly had no idea how she might contact Sabine.

The rest of the British delegates stared at her in shock as she walked back to their table. The last of the delegations were already in the queue to vote, but it appeared that Ginny and Sabine's gestures had made some wizards second guess their choices. Those who changed their votes to Bulgaria did so only for the appearance. France had already gathered a large majority of the votes.

"What was the meaning of that?" Hermanson hissed at her. "You shouted at us for letting Bulgaria use their talent on the pitch to gain power, but you'll vote for them yourself? Are you mental?"

Ginny thought for a moment. "I don't like being used," she whispered back, "and right now, I feel very much like I'm a pawn in someone's game."

"If you are, then I'd show a little more caution," Hermanson replied. "Those who betray others often find themselves betrayed."

There was no more time to talk. The chairman of the Site Selection Committee was walking to the podium. A pair of goblins were quickly counting through the two bowls. The outcome was known, but the official rules declared that a count must be made and entered into the record. As soon as the last vote was counted, the chairman stepped up to the podium and announced the result.

"As Chairman of the Quidditch World Cup Championship Site Selection Committee, I am pleased to announce that next year's Quidditch World Cup will be hosted by France!" Clapping and various cheers echoed through the hall. The French delegates were celebrating lightly and congratulating each other. Ginny could still see the French table quite well, and she could tell that Sabine D'Anneau found no joy in their victory.

"You have all fulfilled your official duties as delegates," announced the chairman. "You are free to return to your respective countries at this time, if you wish. However, there are a number of tasks which still must be decided upon. The Site Selection Committee values the opinions of all participants, and we ask that you remain if possible to join the discussion of these smaller matters."

Ginny looked about her and saw only two wizards stand and make their way to the doors in the back of the hall. None of the British delegates made any move to stand. When she looked at the French table, she found Sabine D'Anneau staring at her again. Her expression was one of curious concern.

As the castle's house-elves brought out platters of food for lunch, the chairman of the committee invited the French delegates to the officials table where they spent some time speaking privately to the other officials. When everyone had some time to eat, the chairman returned to the podium and began going over a number of very small decisions. Officially the delegates had no power to make any of them. Only the opinions of the committee members and the French delegates made any real difference, but the other delegates were free to argue their opinions if they felt the desire to.

Most of the decisions were very minor and were decided without any real argument. Britain, Belgium and Italy would be used to help wizards get into France in a controlled manner. The final date and time of the start of the match were set as well as the first day the spectators would be allowed to arrive.

The new head of the French delegation, a rather proper looking witch named Rochelle DuPrix, had made most of the decisions already. The other delegates made suggestions or simple comments on occasion, but Sabine D'Anneau remained silent. She glared at the head delegate and refused to comment on any of the questions.

As discussion began on the specific site the French had selected, more of the hall began to take notice. There was some real debate over just how much land would be needed to hold all the spectators and how it could be hidden from the Muggles in the area. As the topic of security came up, a number of delegations began to press DuPrix with very specific demands.

It was clear that many wizards were upset with the recent increase in violence associated with the World Cup. Some argued that more extreme measures were needed to ensure everyone's safety, while some, including DuPrix, claimed that there was little need.

"Now that we have finally selected a site, this petty fighting should be finished," she told a group of wizards from Denmark. "I was just as saddened by the loss Henri as any of you here, but there is no reason for the attacks to continue. The votes have been counted. The attacks will end."

"They won't end," echoed a louder voice. "They haven't ended."

Everyone in the hall paused and looked to the end of the table, where a rather upset looking Sabine D'Anneau was scowling at DuPrix.

"We are all very sorry for the ordeal you have gone through, child," DuPrix told her, "but you must move on. It was a terrible tragedy, a mistake which got horribly out of hand, but it is over. Even if the Bulgarians were responsible in some small part, they have no reason to continue."

"It wasn't the Bulgarians," Sabine replied, "and they won't stop because of the vote. They attacked me that night. They attacked me again when I escaped to my chateau along the Seine, and they were waiting for me when I tried to come here and take my rightful place in this delegation ―a place which you now hold."

"Calm down, girl," DuPrix said with a little annoyance. "No one has tried to rob you of your position. You are of no greater or lesser importance than you were when your husband led this delegation, and I assure you that neither you nor any other wizard in this hall has any need to fear further attacks."

"They killed my brother!" Sabine shouted. "They used him to coax me out of hiding, and when I did not fall for their trick, they killed him. What do you think waits for me when I return home?"

"Nothing!" snapped DuPrix. "That is what you fear, isn't it? No power, no influence, and no husband to give them to you."

"_Enough!_" shouted the committee chairman. "It is clear that there is still some concern over the safety of these proceedings and the World Cup matches. Instead of bickering, let us take this time to make plans for the safety of the matches. I, for one, trust in Madame DuPrix and the wizards of her country to provide for my safety. If others question it, then let us select an alternate site to hold the match if France proves unreliable in the future."

One of the German wizards stood and called out, "If France cannot host the match, then it should default to the Bulgarians." The Bulgarian delegation remained silent, though it was obvious they supported the idea.

"No," the chairman responded sharply. "This committee is still investigating the Bulgarians' role in the attacks upon the French delegation and its attendants. I will not hand them the prize which they are accused of conspiring to take by force."

"Who else would you choose?" the German wizard replied. "It has taken France and Bulgaria months to reach this point, and it will take every week from now until the match for France to prepare. It is simply too late. No other country could host it with less notice."

"There is one!" another wizard called out, Ginny craned her neck to get a look at him. He looked faintly familiar.

"A claim that no one has been able to verify!" the German wizard shouted back.

"I have seen it with my own eyes," the wizard argued. "It stands waiting already. It could be made ready in a matter of weeks. If tragedy strikes again, Romania could host the match ―as a favor to our friends," he added with a bow to the French delegates. "We have no desire to steal this honor from France or subvert the choice of this convention. We would merely donate the location and allow the French council to hold the match as they see fit."

Suddenly Ginny realized why she recognized the wizard. He had been one of the wizards accompanying Grigore Tarus when D'Anneau had first introduced her to him. He'd been with Stefan.

"How gracious of you, Razvan," the German wizard replied with distaste. "Even if this fictional pitch exists, how are we to believe that Romania is any safer than France?"

"Perhaps it is not," the Romanian replied, "but the unfortunate attacks within our country have always been aimed at our own government. Visiting wizards have never been harmed. If France is unsafe, and the attacks do not cease in our lands, then I would suggest that we consider the whole of Europe unsafe. How many contingency plans must we consider, Jacob?"

The German wizard was about to respond, when the chairman interrupted the debate. "Mr. Lupescu has a fine point. If the French site is to be abandoned, then there must indeed be a grave problem. I see no other option but to consider the Romanian proposal. If it proves equally unsuitable, then we will be forced to re-evaluate our options at that time. Are there any substantial disagreements with this plan?"

"Is there any substantial evidence that it even exists?" another wizard shouted from the back of the hall. "The thought of building such a thing―"

"If it does not exist, then it will not be used, and we are no worse off."

"Should we not know that before we declare it as an alternate site?" one of the French delegates suggested. "A lot of useless planning might be avoided if we simply send someone to verify Lupescu's claim."

The chairman looked to Madame DuPrix, and she gave a reluctant nod. "Very well. Is there anyone you might suggest? In the interest of fairness, I suggest we select someone outside the French and Romanian delegations," he said, then paused and added, "―perhaps the Germans should be avoided as well."

Rochelle DuPrix looked thoughtful for a moment, then leaned toward the two wizards on her left and they whispered briefly together. When she leaned back, she looked a little uncertain. "Despite recent events, we would suggest Ginevra Weasley from the British delegation."

"_No!_" Sabine objected sharply. "Not her!"

"She's the perfect choice," one of the French wizards replied. "She's never visited Romania, but she's met the Minister. We trust her judgement, but she broke with her delegation and voted for Bulgaria."

Sabine was unconvinced. "You can't send her there!" she argued. "It's too dangerous for her!"

"I assure you, Madame D'Anneau, she will be safe," Lupescu called out over the murmur of the gathered wizards. "If the committee requests it, I am certain the Minister will personally vouch for her safety. It could be arranged in minutes."

"What do you say Miss Weasley?" the chairman called out.

Ginny felt slightly disoriented and suddenly quite nervous. They wanted her to go speak with Tarus. That had been one of the hopes which had brought her here. It couldn't be a coincidence. Was it a trap? Or was it something Tarus had tried to set up in order to save her again? Sabine certainly thought it was a trap, but she didn't know about Tarus's promise. She closed her eyes, and made a decision.

"I'll go," she said.

"Out of respect for Madame D'Anneau's concern for your safety, I think it best if you leave within the hour. That will prevent anyone outside this hall from knowing of your departure. Will that be acceptable?"

"Yes," Ginny agreed weakly.

"Excellent," the chairman replied. "I hope that puts an end to that rather uninteresting argument. Mr. Lupescu, if you would please send word to your Minister about his upcoming guest," Lupescu stood, bowed and quickly walked toward the door. The chairman turned to Ginny and continued, "And Miss Weasley, you may return to your tower and pack your things. I'm sure Mr. Tarus will provide you with anything else you might need. We will make arrangements for your travel and send someone to fetch you in thirty minutes."

With a nod, Ginny turned and walked away as well. She still felt slightly numb. After being overruled, Sabine D'Anneau had not taken her eyes off Ginny. It had been unnerving. Why had she been so eager to keep Ginny from going to Romania? There was no time to think of those things right now. Ginny trusted Tarus, and a surprise trip to Romania still felt safer than her scheduled return to London, where she _knew_ wizards were waiting for her to return.

When she got to the tower, she found a pair of guards waiting for her. Somehow they already knew why she was there and they opened the door without a word. Ginny walked to her room and quickly began packing her things. She hadn't brought much, but her growing anxiety made packing so much slower. When she was almost finished, there was a sharp knock at the door. A quick check of the clock on the wall told her she still had ten more minutes. She walked to the door and opened it slowly.

"Excuse me, miss, but you've got a visitor," a guard announced. He wasn't one of the guards who had been waiting for her by the door.

"Who is it?" Ginny asked suspiciously as she reached into her robes for her wand.

"It's Madame D'Anneau, Miss," he replied crisply.

Before Ginny could respond, he had turned on his heels and marched back down the stairs. With her anxiety building even faster now, she stuffed everything else into her traveling chest and levitated it in front of her. She quickly made her way down the stairs to the main room and found four guards waiting for her. Standing in the middle of them was Sabine D'Anneau.

"Don't go to Romania," she blurted out upon seeing Ginny. "Tell the chairman you can't go. Tell him you don't feel well or that you have urgent business in London."

"Why?" Ginny asked.

"Because you are a _good witch_," Sabine replied with desperation. "I could tell from the moment I met you. There is nothing for you in Romania. Only danger."

"England is no different," Ginny said flatly. "I've been in danger there for weeks now. I'm not afraid."

"You don't know what danger really is," Sabine countered. "I've walked under the shadow of death much longer than you have. You must understand that this is something beyond fear." She stepped closer and dropped her voice, "As children we fear the dark because of the monsters which might be hiding in it. When we grow up, we conquer our fear of the dark, but that doesn't mean the monsters aren't there. Your lack of fear is no protection from them."

"Perhaps not, but I won't hide from them," Ginny said. "I trust Grigore Tarus. He's told me the truth when no one else would. He'll protect me."

"He offered the same to me," Sabine replied, taking Ginny by surprise. "I don't want the protection he could give me. He's―"

The door to the room opened quickly and another set of guards walked into the room. Two of them walked forward and stood next to Sabine.

"Madame D'Anneau, you need to come with us," one of them announced. "Madame DuPrix has requested an audience with you."

Sabine looked at the guards with hollow eyes. When she looked back at Ginny, her expression was filled with desperation. "Please, don't go. Stay away from Grigore Tarus. It's not safe―"

"Enough!" the guard interrupted. "Madame DuPrix demands you come immediately." Sabine's face fell in defeat. With one last warning glance, she turned and let the guards lead her out of the room.

Another set of guards walked over to Ginny and one of them pulled out a wand and took over the levitation of her chest. "I'm very sorry about that," one of the others apologized. "Madame D'Anneau hasn't been herself lately. She's become dangerously paranoid. It seems two guards were attacked the night she arrived. We couldn't prove it at first, but it seems she suspected they were trying to kill the other French delegates. When Madam DuPrix heard that she'd come here, she sent for her immediately. I hope she hasn't upset you."

Ginny took a moment to try and understand what had just happened before she replied. "Er―No. I― I'm fine. Just a little confused, I guess."

The guards nodded as if they understood but said nothing more. There were six of them now, and with a gesture from one of them, they turned and escorted her out the door. As they left, the two who had been guarding the door walked ahead of them.

Ginny didn't even try to figure out just where they were taking her. She'd barely left the tower in the last two days, and they seemed to be quite a ways away from the Keep. Finally, they stopped in what looked to be a large kitchen. In the center was a large stone fireplace with a green fire burning.

"I'll take your luggage first," the head guard told her. He took her traveling chest and stepped into the fire.

"The Dragon's Horn!"

With a flash of green flame, he disappeared. The room was silent for a little while, then the fire flashed again and the guard tumbled back into the room. It was Ginny's turn now. She took a deep breath, stepped into the fire and tried to forget everything Sabine D'Anneau had told her.

"The Dragon's Horn!"

* * *

When Ginny rolled out of the fireplace at the other end, she immediately began panicking. She was in a dimly lit room all by herself. Had she said something wrong? Where was she? She stood up slowly and tried to see if she could find any clue to tell her where she was. A moment later she found something that helped. Her traveling chest was sitting a few feet from a door in the far wall. She must be in the right place, but why was no one else around? 

The fire behind her slowly faded back to a warm orange flame. The door was the only way out now. Ginny pulled her wand, walked to the door, and cautiously opened it. The room on the other side was brighter and Ginny found herself squinting against the light from a large chandelier in the center of the room. Seeing no one else in the room, she slowly entered.

"Good afternoon, Miss Weasley," a voice announced behind her.

Ginny spun and pointed her wand at the source. Standing beside the doorway she'd just walked through was Grigore Tarus. He had a warm smile on his face and didn't seem put off by Ginny's wand in the least. "A fine show, I must say. Far too many wizards study their hexes and counter-curses but totally neglect the skill of drawing their wand at a moment's notice. Sadly, fewer still develop the skill of recognizing the voices and shouts of their friends over those of their foes."

Feeling a little silly, Ginny smiled and lowered her wand. Before she could walk back for her chest, Tarus had snapped his fingers and a small, wiry-looking house-elf appeared. Without a word of command, it walked into the room, grabbed the small traveling chest, and disappeared with a light _pop_, taking the chest with it.

"I must apologize for my failure to provide you with a better welcome to my country," said Tarus formally. "I had hoped your first visit might be something a little more grand than tumbling into a mostly deserted pub."

"Well, I don't think I would have minded that," Ginny replied as she dusted herself off. "I think the rest of them meant for this to be a bit of a surprise, just to be safe."

"They sent you to verify the existence of the pitch Razvan and I have spoken of, did they not?" he asked lightly. "Perhaps they hoped they might catch us in a lie if we were were caught unprepared."

There was something peculiar about Tarus's behavior. It wasn't his casual attitude. He'd always appeared very composed. It was a very slight change in the pitch of his voice. It was nearly imperceptible, but there was a slight eagerness to the way he was speaking.

"I think it's a little more than that," Ginny replied. "My visit isn't as much of a surprise as you were going to let me think, is it? You expected this to happen, didn't you?"

"You are a very clever witch," he told her with a proud smile. "Did I expect you to visit?" He paused to think a moment, then nodded and continued, "Yes, I suppose I did expect it, but I did not orchestrate it as you might be implying. Razvan knew of my desire to speak with you again. He is also very clever, and he no doubt encouraged the idea of you coming here. I must admit, however, that the amount of security he requested was a bit surprising. He made it sound as if you were being chased by the Telahmet itself."

"What is a Telahmet?" Ginny asked.

"The Telahmet," he corrected. "I am sorry, it is a folk story among my people. I believe you might be more familiar with the― bogeyman, is it?" Ginny nodded and smiled in recognition.

"Razvan said that he promised I would provide you with the highest security I could, and I do not wish to make him appear a fool. So, let us be off."

As Tarus spoke, a group of ten or more wizards began filing into the room. They all wore something of a uniform: long purple robes with gold trim and a golden circlet about their heads. Tarus introduced them as his personal guards and motioned for Ginny to follow him.

He led Ginny and the guards out onto a wide, raised street paved with large flat stones. On either side, stairs and wooden ramps sloped down to the doors and narrow streets of the rest of the city. The road itself stretched toward a large castle made of dark stone. After walking for only a minute or two, Tarus pointed out a large building made of white stone off to the left.

"You may leave all worries of the Brotherhood behind you while you stay in this city," he explained in a low voice. "however, it is still best if you do not stay in the palace. There have still been... problems there. I have arranged a room for you in that inn. Simply return there and ask for a room under the name 'Elizabeth Harker'. Everything will be taken care of."

As they walked further, the street rose higher over the surrounding city, and the buildings on either side became somewhat more run down. Tarus explained that this area was the least desirable area of the city due to it's distance from the palace and the distance the street rose over the buildings below. Just as he had said, the buildings became cleaner and much more lavish as they neared the palace.

The final approach to the palace explained the purpose behind the raised street. The palace itself was built upon a rather prominent hill, and the path to the front gate was one that could easily be walked by both wizards and animals.

Before they reached the front gate, it began opening for them and more guards walked out to greet them. Ginny looked over the sides of the street and was surprised by the steepness of the hill the palace had been built upon.

"This building has not always been a palace," Tarus said as they walked through the heavily reinforced gate. "Some say it is a rather interesting story. I find it fitting and rather encouraging."

He led her across a courtyard and through another grand gate structure. "Long ago, before the people of this part of the world drew lines to separate themselves, this place was the site of a wizarding village. The fields below were farmed, and the farmers lived on this hill. For generations they lived in peace and harmony with the Muggles and other wizards in the area. Slowly, they began to develop their own culture, their own power and identity.

"Other villages began to look to them for leadership and guidance, and the wizards who lived here became both merciful and wise. As their renown grew, so did the stories of their greatness. Those stories began to anger other villages and tribes who no longer held the power they once did. They banded together and remedied their problem."

Tarus stopped in front of a large painting, and directed Ginny to look at it. It was a large painting of fertile farmland wrapped around a solitary hill with brightly colored buildings on it. As she watched, a number of black specks grew on the horizon until they were large winged shapes swooping and diving over the city. Bright, glowing streams of flame shot from their long necks and splashed across the town on the hill. She watched as the orange flames grew taller and spread, leaping down the slopes of the hill and across the farmlands below.

"When the town was destroyed, the wizards who had joined against it turned on the people who had supported it, then those who fought to protect them, and finally, finding no one else to oppose them, they turned upon each other. The resulting war and chaos left wounds in this land which can still be seen.

"It is said that none of the village's inhabitants survived, but the story of its ascent to greatness and its tragic fall have lived on. For quite some time this hill was little more than a place of reflection for those who aspired to greatness. Eventually, others decided it had remained uninhabited long enough. This palace was built by them, along with the long causeway which we now call the High Road. It was to be a place of strength and wisdom.

"As the lands around it became even more peaceful, and it became something of a school, teaching the power and wisdom it stood for to others. Then, as is the nature of the world, the world grew more violent. The school became a fortress against those who felt threatened by such knowledge. When the wizards of this country were told to choose a location for their Ministry, they chose this castle. To the people, it is a symbol of the triumph of harmony and wisdom over the greed, anger, excess and discord of the world around them."

Tarus turned and continued walking down the corridor. Ginny could feel the floor sloping gently upward as they walked.

"These are the principles upon which I am expected to act, and I have done so to the best of my abilities," Tarus said over his shoulder. "I recognize my own wisdom, and yet with wisdom comes the knowledge that all wisdom is limited and imperfect." He stopped and looked at Ginny. "I have made mistakes in my day. It seems the older I get, the more prone I am to making them. Right now, more than any other time in the past, it is critically important that I make no mistakes."

"What does this have to do with Wold Cup?"

"Not as much as it might seem," Tarus said with a faint smile, "but in times like these, every area becomes a battlefield. You were sent here to inspect a battlefield which I have turned into an arena." Tarus stopped in front of a wide door and motioned for Ginny to enter. "This is my personal study. Shall we sit and speak?" Ginny nodded and walked into the room.

The room was round, with a large circular opening in the ceiling, as if it were the uppermost chamber of some tower. It was lavishly decorated in rich browns and deep reds with golden accents. The walls were filled with paintings of many different scenes, some of them showing battles, others showing tall towers gleaming in the sunlight. In the center of the room were a number large cushioned chairs circling a low, round table edged in gold. Ginny took a seat in one of the chairs, and Tarus took one facing her.

"That is much better," he said as he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. "To answer your question more fully, you must know more about the events which led to the building of our glorious pitch. You have heard of the attack, have you not? The escaped dragons?" he added in case Ginny wasn't certain. Ginny nodded. "From your brother?" he asked with a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

"No," Ginny answered. "I read about it some time after it happened."

Tarus nodded and continued. "The attack bore a striking similarity to the events which preceded the construction of this castle. It was meant as a message to remember those times and the destruction they inflicted on this land. In the place of that attack, I gathered all the wizards who would stand with me, and we built what I felt was my best chance at turning the tide."

"A Quidditch pitch?" Ginny replied incredulously. "Why not build a castle or a tower or just a stronger town?"

"What good would another castle do? Romania has enough castles, and far too many towers," he said dismissively. "A stronger town would only provoke a stronger attack, and weaker citizens who run to their cellars instead of facing danger."

"What about the people who lived in that village?" Ginny asked. "Do you think they wanted their homes turned into a Quidditch pitch?"

"Certainly not. Neither did they want them turned into smoldering ruins and smoking tombs for their families. Do not misunderstand me, Miss Weasley," Tarus said firmly. "I pitied the families of that village. I saw their loss first hand. I did what I could to heal their loss but more importantly, I tried to teach them how to take strength and wisdom from it."

"But why a Quidditch pitch?" Ginny persisted.

"I have mentioned the problems I face," Tarus said gravely. "No castle can hold back this evil, but wizards might. If this new pitch forces even a small number of wizards to pay attention to what is happening here then it was worth every spell. This is not a threat only to Romania, but to all of the wizarding world. For many years it has existed and no one has tried to stop it."

Ginny gave him a perplexed look. "D'Anneau said that you were facing a new enemy."

"And to many eyes, he would be correct," Tarus replied solemnly. "Henri had an agile mind and a great talent for finding ways to obtain what he wanted, but only rarely included knowledge of the history of the world around him. You, however, have seen much more of the nature of this world than many other wizards. Certainly you have observed that our enemies do not start out as such. Instead, they are created by our own actions."

"No, our enemies are created by _their_ actions," Ginny disagreed.

"I beg your pardon, but that is a naive observation and one beneath your abilities," Tarus said. "I should think that of all people you would have seen the error in that view. What did Harry Potter do to become Lord Voldemort's enemy?"

Ginny twitched upon hearing Harry's name, and she felt her pulse quicken. "He didn't do anything. It was all Tom's doing. Harry never had a choice."

"There is always a choice," Tarus replied. "Voldemort's choice created his enemy, and Harry's choice to take up the mantle prepared for him made Voldemort his enemy. Between the two of them, the source lies in Lord Voldemort, but both of them made the choice. Harry could have chosen to run or to strike some bargain for his life."

"He never would have done that," Ginny said stiffly.

"Precisely, Miss Weasley. And Lord Voldemort never would have allowed anyone to threaten his power. His ruthless pursuit of domination incited wizards like Albus Dumbledore and Harry's parents to stand against him," Tarus explained slowly. "His actions brought them together. His actions solidified their resolve, and in the ultimate act of defiance, they created the boy who would become his ultimate enemy."

With a gentle _pop,_ a small house-elf appeared with a wide silver tray and two elegant china cups upon it. "Would you care for some tea?" he asked, as he reached for one of the cups. Ginny nodded vacantly and took the other.

"The path Harry followed was scarcely different," Tarus continued after a sip of tea. "His compassion and bravery incited others to stand against him as well ―wizards like the Malfoy boy and his peers. Harry attracted them like insects to a torch, bringing them together and bringing out the worst of their characters."

Ginny nearly dropped her tea as she glared at Tarus. "What does that mean? Are you saying that it was his fault ―that he was too good?"

Tarus put his tea back on the table. "Fault and blame are words best left to fools and politicians," he snapped. After a brief pause, his expression softened a little. "Harry has always been just what he was meant to be. He is no more responsible for his nature than the dragons who razed that village. Nonetheless, the dragons _did_ raze that village, and he and Lord Voldemort fractured the wizarding world, creating an endless supply of enemies by doing nothing more than simply fulfilling their roles in nature."

"Then what does this have anything to do with you?"

"Everything, I'm afraid," the old wizard answered. "Harry and Lord Voldemort were so much stronger than anything our world was prepared for. Two such powers were never meant to confront each other, but they had no choice. The results of that confrontation have left a wound in the wizarding world that will not heal quickly. I am certain you are aware of this fact." Tarus leaned forward to drink more of his tea. Slowly, Ginny was starting to realize how old Grigore Tarus truly was.

He leaned back into his seat with a sigh. "It should have been Albus Dumbledore's task to complete, but he is gone. I hoped someone else would take his place and finish what he had started, but no one did. I told myself that I could do it. It was to be my last accomplishment. I thought I could mend it before a second, more violent war broke out." Tarus leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, they were filled with exhaustion and regret.

"The wound was much deeper than anyone could have known," he said with remorse. "In my clumsy attempt to correct it, I awoke the very evil I wanted to stop. Those who had been my allies and countrymen turned against me. The more I tried to repair the damage, the more I found myself slipping into the path of Harry and Lord Voldemort. I gathered those I could trust, and found my enemies multiplied. I sought out my old allies and found them arrayed against me. Every advantage I gained opened a vulnerability somewhere else. Every increase in my strength pushed my enemies to respond in kind."

"That's why you haven't told anyone else," Ginny commented. "You're the ensnared dragon."

Grigore Tarus nodded weakly. "The wizarding world _must_ be saved, even if I must pay for it with my own life. It has been many years since I could even remember what it was like to be young. I cannot fight a war, and the world is not yet ready to fight another one. If I am to fight, it must be done in secrecy, pulling my enemies into the shadows with me. In such a battle, the wise hold the advantage and in my own wisdom I have put all my hopes."

Tarus said nothing more and returned to his tea. Ginny sat and watched as he inhaled the vapors and released long, relaxing breaths. Grigore Tarus was a truly bizarre wizard. One moment he argued with the energy Ginny rarely saw in any wizard, yet in an another he was just an old wizard who'd been forced to fight long after someone else should have taken his place. She understood why he'd done what he did, but there was one thing he still hadn't explained.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Tarus looked up from his tea and smiled. "You were right, you know," he said quietly. "I did plan to bring you here, even if I did not know the hour of your arrival." He drank the last of his tea and placed the cup on the table in front of him. With a look of grim determination, he sat up straight and looked directly at Ginny.

"Another war is coming. Perhaps it has already begun."

"Perhaps?" Ginny exclaimed. "Nine people died at Giza. Sabine D'Anneau's brother was murdered!"

"Casualties do not need wars," he replied. "This is a critical point. At any moment, the wall I have built may crack and war will spill across the rest of the wizarding world. It is time for you to pick which side you will fight on."

The sudden forcefulness of his tone caught Ginny off guard. "What if I don't want to pick a side?" she asked.

"I am afraid that is not one of your options," Tarus answered. "Surely you have seen enough to know that you cannot outrun the coming storm. It will sweep you up into into it, and without allies to help you, you will not survive."

Ginny bristled at the veiled threat, and meant to reply, but he stopped her.

"I do not mean to threaten you," he said quickly. "I am trying to warn you and protect you as I promised your brother I would do. The battle to come cannot be avoided, but your death can be." There was a hint of sincere desperation in his voice that convinced Ginny of his concern for her. "On your own, there is little hope of your survival. Charlie knew this long ago, but he knew that with the help and protection of others, you might avoid that fate. I fear there is precious little time for you to choose your path."

"And I'm supposed to choose _your_ path, is that it?"

"Our choices are always our own," he answered flatly. "It may not matter what choice you make, but your fate is sealed if you stand aside and do nothing."

"I don't want to fight," she told him, "but I will if I am forced to."

"You will be, I assure you," he replied quickly. "I do not ask you to decide this moment. I only ask that you be prepared to choose. When the time comes, will you be able to make your own choice, or will you allow another to choose for you?"

"I make my own decisions," Ginny replied sharply.

"Your brother said the very same thing, and yet he was led astray by concerns for your safety. Because of that mistake, he was killed, and now you are in more danger because of it. If he were still alive, would you still make your own choice, or would you simply agree to stand by him? Could you make your own decision about what is right and true, or would you ask Miss Granger to explain it to you? Would you think for yourself, or would you follow Harry Potter, even if he was leaping into the abyss?"

"Harry Potter is gone," Ginny replied mechanically.

"Of course," Tarus replied with a nod. "It was merely an example."

"I think for myself," she said firmly. "I make my own decisions. I won't allow anyone to tell me what choice to make ―or when to make it― no matter how wise or important they are."

Grigore Tarus stared at her for a moment and then turned away and massaged his temples. "I fear I have upset you," he said in a downcast tone. "I assure you that was not my intention. I am afraid that I have grown quite paranoid, lately. I find fewer and fewer friends in this world, and those I do find are too often taken from me or driven away by my own actions." He turned back to face her with an expression of sincere apology. "As I said before, we create our enemies through our own actions, and I have been far too active for a wizard my age."

Ginny said nothing, but did not look away from him. She respected him and pitied him. If he truly was the only chance the world had to survive the war, he would need all the help he could get, and yet Ginny felt reluctant to answer his request as promptly as he wanted.

"Please accept my apology," he begged. "We will speak of this no more. If the time comes that you wish to discuss this again, simply send word and I will arrange everything. Tomorrow, we will visit the magnificent pitch my fellow wizards have built. You will see it with your own eyes so that you may report back to the committee. I must admit that I now have little hope of seeing a match played there, but this small honor would do much to encourage the wizards who built it.

"Tonight, you will be free to explore the city." Tarus rose and gestured for Ginny to follow him. At the door, he turned again. "I ask only that you keep close to the High Street. My guards watch it closely and they have been told to watch for you and see that you are well treated. However, they will not follow you, both out of respect, and out of practicality. I have many wizards in this city to protect. The Lower City between the Gatehouse and the Palace is not watched, and while the wizards there are not evil, they are not fond of foreigners."

Tarus shook her hand firmly and opened the door. A pair of guards were waiting to escort her. "Please, forget my earlier comments. I was not thinking. Try to enjoy your night. I hear you are fond of pubs. There are several near the Gatehouse at the other end of the High Road that you might try, I wish you a good evening." He bowed and gestured to the guards.

The guards silently led her back to the door, across the courtyard and back through the main gate. Once she was back on the High Road, the guards stopped and bowed slightly. She continued walking down the road, though without them she felt slightly exposed. As she walked away from the palace, she began to see more wizards using the High Street. More than she ever had in London, Ginny felt self-conscious of her red hair. All around her, wizard were turning or stopping to stare at her.

Ginny pulled her hood over her head and quickened her pace. Looking about her, she realized that she could see a pair of guards in their purple cloaks some distance ahead of her. Both of them were watching her. As she passed them, they nodded courteously.

While they made her feel safe enough, Ginny had little desire to explore the city. Even with the guards watching her, she didn't think she'd be able to enjoy herself much. Despite Tarus's instructions, she couldn't forget what he'd told her. The weariness and desperation in his voice were disturbing. Whatever it was he was trying to fight, it must have been serious.

As she walked she began to feel guilty about how she'd spoken to him. He was trying to fix things. If he was fighting the new Dark Lord, then Ginny would do everything she could to help him. She wished she would have told him that. At the time, it had just been too much for her to process. Now, she simply wanted to find the inn Tarus had pointed out and take some time to rest and think about her day.

She passed another pair of guards and finally recognized the top of the inn standing over the other buildings some distance down the street. She spotted another pair of guards not far ahead. They were more concentrated here. They must have been expecting her to come to the inn. She nodded at the closest pair and walked down a set of marble stairs that led toward the inn's large ornately carved doors.

What was that name she was supposed to use? She paused at the door and tried to remember what it was. Elizabeth something. Harper? That didn't sound quite right. Ginny stepped away and tried to think harder. When nothing came to her mind, she turned and tried to find one of the guards. Maybe they could help her.

She climbed the stairs and scanned the street for the purple cloaks of the guards. When she didn't find any, she turned back toward the inn. Her body instinctively froze. Standing in a dark alley between the inn and a small book shop was a wizard wearing a long dark cloak. He was staring directly at her.

There were wizards all around her dressed in black cloaks or coats, but Ginny knew instantly that there was something different about that wizard. There was something familiar about him and just as Ginny realized that, the wizard had disappeared down the alleyway. Without a second thought, Ginny leaped down the stairs to follow him.

When she reached the dark alley, she could just barely make out the shape of a wizard slipping around a corner. Ginny ran after him. She knew who it was now. It was the wizard from Giza, the new Dark Lord Tarus had been afraid of. He was here. As Ginny stumbled after him, she began to question her actions. She should tell the guards. She should have found some way to raise an alarm. She hesitated for a second. If she stopped now, he'd disappear. They'd never find him again. If she kept following him, there still might be a chance. With growing courage, she ran through the darkened alley.

Only a few seconds later, she hit a brick wall with a sickening sound and a pained shriek. After regaining her balance she found a narrow opening to her right. The dim light of dusk was faintly visible at the end of a narrow passage that would be better described as a wide crack between two buildings. Ginny slipped between the stone walls and eventually stumbled into a crowded marketplace.

There was no sign of the dark wizard. There were far too many wizards around her and all of them seemed to be taller than she was. She needed to find some way to get higher. She pushed her way through the crowd and toward a shop with a bench under their front window. She leaped onto the bench and scanned the crowd again. At the far end of the crowded street she saw a wizard running past a broken stone archway. Ginny jumped down and ran off after him.

After the arch, the crowd thinned quickly, but the shops became much less inviting. Several of the shops had broken windows or doors with scorch marks on them. The whole place was dark and dreary. It felt like Knockturn Alley. She ignored her fears and pressed on. After turning one last corner, she found herself in a small courtyard with a number of rough looking wizards.

They all stopped talking and stared at her. Ginny looked around and realized that none of them were the wizard she'd been following. _What a bloody stupid thing to do_, she told herself. She'd managed to lose the wizard she was chasing and put herself just where Grigore Tarus had warned her not to go. She quickly turned and tried to run back the way she came, but she ran directly into a tall wizard with long black hair. He grabbed her by her cloak and said something in a language she couldn't understand, though the look on his face and his rough laugh were enough to convince her that she didn't really want to know what it was.

She tried to step away from him, but he was clutching at her cloak. She struggled harder and finally pulled herself free of the cloak. He was left holding her cloak while she tumbled to the dusty ground. When she got back to her feet, Ginny found herself surrounded. She quickly drew her wand and brandished it at the nearest wizard.

"Take a wrong turn, did you?" he croaked.

"That's a pretty wand you have there," said a witch next to him. "Hand it to me, dearie, and I'll see none of this lot harms you."

A wizard to her left reached out to grab her shoulder. Ginny tried to bat his arm away, but his hand clasped onto her arm and he pulled her closer to him instead. With his other arm he reached for her hair. "Such hair," he whispered, "So rare a color. Come with me, my pet. I would like to work out a trade with you. I won't even ask for your wand," he said with a laugh. "It won't do you any good at all."

Ginny wrenched her arm free, and looked for the path back to the street she'd come from. Once she found it, she closed her eyes tightly and kept a firm grasp on her wand. She could feel the witches and wizards closing in upon her. She concentrated on her wand, and a second later she felt a flash of warmth and heard a chorus of wails and shouts from around her.

It had only been a simple Flash Charm, but it had been painfully bright. Quite a few of the wizards had tripped or stumbled, and Ginny took care stepping over them. She needed only a few seconds of freedom, just enough to send some sort of sign that she needed help. She raised her wand to the sky, but watched in horror as a thin rope snaked around her forearm and yanked it down, making her fire red sparks into a nearby storefront. She felt a curse strike her in the back, but it was repelled by her charmed robes.

More ropes wrapped around her legs, and she finally lost her balance and stumbled to the stone pavement. Her head exploded with pain as it struck the ground. Through the ringing, she heard angry shouts and curses. A number of spells hit her in quick succession. With one last ominous flash she felt the world slip away.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

This chapter has been a little delayed while I tried to work out all the links in this chapter to the rest of the story. As you might guess, this is a very important chapter. However, it still isn't as important as the next chapter. The good news is that I'm already half done with Chapter 11. The bad news is that Civilization IV comes out soon. Still, I'll do my best. I promise that Chapter 11 will be ... interesting. I can't guarantee that everyone will love every part of it, but hopefully everyone will find it entertaining overall.

Also note that I'm sorry is ditching all of my formatting when I upload chapters. I'm not sure exactly why, but I'll see if I can figure out what is going on.


	11. Out of Bounds

**Chapter 11**

**Out of Bounds**

Ginny felt consciousness slowly creeping into her head. Her mind was cloudy and confused, her eyes could only see fuzzy shadows and her ears were filled with a horrible, harsh ringing. Her body seemed to be filled with a burning pain.

She blinked her eyes, but still couldn't see anything. Had they blinded her? It didn't seem so. She could see a faint block of light coming from somewhere to her left. She blinked again and her vision sharpened a little more. It looked to be a door. She must be inside some building.

Her legs ached, sharp pains were shooting down her back and it felt like she'd broken one of her arms. As her eyes scanned the room, she was struck by a wave of dizziness. She must have been hit with quite a few hexes. She'd never felt quite as bad as this.

The room around her was dark, but it seemed to be mostly empty. The moment she moved her head to look around, a blinding pain stabbed into her left temple. Instinctively, she screamed in agony. Her left arm jerked toward her head in an effort to try and stop the pain, but it didn't obey.

Ignoring the burning aches in her arm, she tugged at it again. To her horror, she suddenly realized that she couldn't move it. Both of her arms were stretched above her head, leaving no way for her to see what the problem might be. She pulled harder, feeling the first twinges of panic. A sharper pain in her wrist confirmed her fear. Something was holding her there.

Grimacing against the pain, she lifted her head again and tried to see what had happened to her. It looked as if she was laying on a table in the middle of a large, dark kitchen. She tried to move her legs and found that one of them was already immobilized. She could faintly make out something like a piece of dark rope wrapped around her ankle. It held her leg firmly enough that she could move it only slightly.

As she struggled against her bonds, the room grew suddenly darker. An instant later, the sounds of boots on a wooden floor echoed painfully in her ears. Then a muffled voice cut through the ringing in her head.

"You're not supposed to be awake yet."

Now fully panicking, Ginny struggled with all her strength. When her leg wouldn't budge, she tried pulling her arms free and was rewarded with excruciating pain in her right arm. She was right. It was broken.

Ginny was awoken from her pain by a sudden tug on her free leg. She looked down and found the wizard grasping her left ankle. She fought back frantically, but it didn't do any good. She didn't have the strength to fight back, but that didn't mean she was going to give up.

Ginny stopped struggling and watched as the wizard pulled out what looked to be a long leather strap. He wrapped it around her ankle twice and then reached under the table. The moment he let go of her leg, she pulled it free. As he dove to grab it again, Ginny delivered a vicious kick to his jaw. He let out a satisfying howl of pain, and Ginny took another opportunity to slam her foot into his his forehead.

To her surprise, the wizard stumbled backward and fell to the floor. After tugging at her other leg for a second she gave up and tried the only option she had left.

"_Somebody help me!_" she shouted. Her own voice sounded muffled and hollow, and the noise was painful enough to bring tears to her eyes, but it was her only hope now. "_Anyone! Please Help!_" Maybe someone would hear her and tell one of the guards.

"_Silencio!_"

The hex struck her just as she was about to shout again. The wizard grabbed Ginny's leg and held it down as he tied the strap underneath the table. When he was finished, he raised his wand again and with a flash of red, the world was swept away.

* * *

The sounds and smells of the waking world slowly swirled around Ginny as she slipped back into consciousness. The ringing in her ears was gone, replaced with an eerie silence. It was much darker than it had been before. In fact, it was completely dark. She tried blinking her eyes and realized immediately that something had been tied around her eyes.

Without thinking, she tried reaching for the blindfold, and was rewarded with more sharp pains in her arm. When she tried to call out in pain, she found her own voice muffled. She'd been gagged as well.

"That arm is still broken," a voice announced from frighteningly nearby. Ginny flinched, fearing some attack, and managed to tug at her broken arm again. This time, she only let out a low groan.

"I'm going to take off the gag and blindfold," the wizard said smoothly. "Please don't scream. It won't do you any good. I've charmed the walls. No one will hear you."

Ginny froze. It wasn't the chilling message which caught her attention, but the voice delivering it. It wasn't possible. They said he was gone. They all said he was gone. Ginny trembled as her captor pulled the blindfold from her eyes.

The room was far too dark for her to see anything more than a dark shadow looming over her. He quickly removed her gag and stepped away. Ginny strained against the darkness to see him clearer. She knew his voice, but she didn't know if she could trust herself.

A lamp flared to life next to the table she was tied to. Ginny turned her head from the light. A series of dull throbs pounded inside her head. When her eyes finally adjusted to the light, she turned back toward the lamp and found a wand pointed directly at her head.

"Don't move," the wizard ordered. Ginny's heart started beating faster. His hood obscured most of his face, but in the dim flickering light from the lamp, Ginny could make out dark hair and the cold stare of a single green eye. As he leaned forward to press his wand against her temple, she saw a faint lightning shaped shadow on his forehead.

"H-Harry?" she asked in a raspy voice.

He ignored her. "Keep still," he said without a trace of emotion.

"Oh my god― Harry!" Ginny shouted. She turned her head to look at him, but stopped when she felt the point of his wand jab into her temple, making her head throb again sharply. She winced, but kept looking at him. "Harry, you... you have no idea―"

"―how happy you are to see me?" he finished for her. "Or is it 'how long you've been searching for me?'" His voice was cold, hostile, and filled with scorn.

Ginny tried to say something, but found herself unable to speak. She'd dreamed of finding Harry hundreds of times, but in none of her dreams had Harry ever treated her with such contempt. She watched in shock as he ran his wand over the side of her head some sort of pattern. A warm tingling ran over her scalp and down her neck.

"What― What are you doing?" she asked hesitantly.

"You hit your head pretty hard," he explained in a hard tone. "You broke your arm, too. I think that's the worst of it ―for now."

"What's wrong, Harry? You're― You're angry?" she questioned. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I saw a dark wizard and I ran after him. It was stupid. I know it was stupid. I should have run to the guards, but― I couldn't let him escape, so I tried to follow him but I lost him and ran into that alley and then― Ginny froze as she remembered what had happened before she woke up. "Did you stop him?" she asked.

Harry had moved on to prodding her broken arm, but he stopped. "Stop who?" he asked in a bored voice.

"The wizard who tied me here!" she shouted. "We have to go! He could come back any minute." When Harry didn't respond to her demand, she shook her arm to get his attention. "Come on, Harry! You can do that later. Untie the ropes so we can go!"

"They aren't ropes," he corrected her. "They're dragonhide straps. They don't burn or dissolve and they resist most hexes. I've already learned that lesson."

"What do you mean? Can't you untie them?"

"Yes," Harry said in a steady voice, "but I'm not going to." He finished with her arm and stood up.

"Why not?" Ginny demanded. "This is no time for pranks, Harry.

"It's not a prank," Harry replied sharply. As his face turned toward the light, Ginny saw a dark bruise stretching across the side of his face.

The shocking reality struck Ginny and left her unable to speak. What was going on? Her mind raced as she tried to think of some reason or explanation for the situation she was in.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked with some uncertainty.

"I see you're still recovering from the Stunner," Harry said flatly. "You're tied to my table, but that broken arm and nasty bump on your head should be healing nicely."

"That was very kind of you," Ginny shot back sarcastically, "but I think I'd rather deal with the broken arm and a headache than be tied to your table, thanks."

"I figured you would."

"Then why am I still here?"

"Because you haven't told me who you are."

"I'm Ginny!"

"Right," Harry replied with a frown. "Of course you are. You just decided to take a holiday in sunny Romania."

"I didn't plan anything," Ginny explained, "They sent me―"

"I'm sure they did," Harry interrupted with a patronizing tone. "How about we try talking again after the Polyjuice Potion wears off."

"I haven't drunk any―"

"_Stupefy!_"

* * *

Ginny felt the groggy dizziness of being woken up after yet another Stunner. It was a feeling she decided she'd felt quite enough over the last month. This time the memories rushed back to her much quicker.

A pair of lamps were lit in the room. She lifted her head as much as she could and took a look around. Harry (if it truly was Harry) was sitting in a chair nearby with a large book open in front of him. His wand was out and pointed toward her, but he was still focused the book.

Ginny let her head drop and gave her head some time to clear. How long had she been here? What was he trying to do? Was it really Harry?

"Why are you doing this?" she asked after losing her patience.

"That's the wrong question," he answered with disinterest. "You're supposed to ask 'Where am I?'"

"Why am I supposed to ask that?"

The wizard looked up from the book and frowned. "You're not very good at this, are you?" he said.

"What, good at being tied to a table?" Ginny asked. "I'd say I'm better than you. Care to prove me wrong?"

"No," he answered with a smile, "I wouldn't want to interrupt an artisan like yourself ―at least, not until your performance was complete."

"What performance?" Ginny replied. "What are you trying to accomplish with this? What's the point of all this? Why did you save me just to imprison me?"

"I wouldn't have," he replied, "but those weren't Brotherhood wizards putting on a show for my benefit. That was a band of thieves who have been robbing shops in the area. They'd have killed you, and no one would have cared or noticed."

"But you would have," she persisted. "Why did you care? Why did you turn back to save me?"

Harry ignored her questions and slammed the book shut. He stood up and began pacing in a circle around her. "It's been almost two hours since I saw you. Even the most skilled potions master couldn't make Polyjuice Potion last that long, so it's got to be something else," he explained as if he were merely talking to himself. "So, I figure it's got to be a Glamor Talisman, some form of Disillusioning Draught, or the Mimmiformus Charm."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked.

Harry just kept pacing. "Now, the potion is the easiest, but it wouldn't last much longer. The Mimmiformus Charm would be clever, but it wouldn't convince anyone who knows Ginny well, and the talisman― well, it would work, but it'll send you around the twist in just a few hours, so if I were you, I'd hope it isn't that."

"What do you want?" Ginny asked.

"I want to know why you're here."

"Why I'm here? I'm here because I was chasing the dark lord who attacked me in Giza." As soon as she said it, she jerked her head up to stare at the wizard walking around her. She had been chasing a wizard, and now she was his captive. She remembered the wizard at the Quidditch match, and again at the Ministry, and all the warnings from Tarus and Hermione. Hermione had told her not to trust wizards who looked like Harry, and Tarus had warned her of walking into traps.

"You're not him, are you?" she said without emotion.

"Not who?" the wizard asked with a sigh. "Harry Potter? Didn't you see the scar?"

"Harry wouldn't have run from me," Ginny declared.

"And Ginny wouldn't have let me get away," he snapped.

Ginny closed her eyes and shouted at him, "What do you want? I haven't taken any potions or used any charms! I _am_ Ginny Weasley!"

"Well, your wand is a good copy," the wizard said. "Pretty convincing. Much better than last time, though I should expect that, shouldn't I?" Ginny watched as he flexed the wand a couple times. "Still, there's more to a wand than just wood and the right length. What core does it use?"

"Unicorn hair," Ginny growled.

"I wonder if you're right," the wizard replied as the wand flexed dangerously.

"Don't you dare break my wand!" Ginny shouted threateningly.

"How else am I supposed to know if you're telling the truth?" the wizard asked. "We both know I don't have the tools to verify your claim. It seems we are at an impasse. You refuse to admit you are not Ginny, yet I know that you are not. What would you do if you were in my position?"

"If I was in your position," Ginny snarled, "I would run. I _will_ get out of this eventually and then I'll hunt you down and show you what torture is really about."

"This is not meant to be torture," the wizard corrected her.

"Well it's not hospitality, either," she snapped.

"And how else am I supposed to discover just who you are?" the wizard replied. "You claim to be a witch who is still in the Weserburg. She cannot be in two places at once. It is simple to concoct some story about why you are here. I need proof. How do I know you are who you say you are? What could I ask you that the Brotherhood couldn't have discovered? They know more about my past than I do. Even if you could think of something, it would only make me more suspicious."

"Can you prove that you're Harry?" Ginny retorted.

"I don't need to," he replied. "You wouldn't be here unless you already believed that. You knew who you were chasing all along. You knew it from the moment you saw me watching you."

"I didn't come here looking for Harry Potter," Ginny explained. "I was following the wizard who murdered my brother in the Ministry of―."

"I didn't murder anyone," the wizard replied immediately.

"Well get comfortable with the idea, because I'll starve before I turn into whoever it is you think I really am."

The wizard scowled at her. "We'll just see then," he said as he strode toward her. He tapped his wand to her forehead and said in a clear voice: "_Somnus_."

The room spun for a second, then faded to darkness.

* * *

When Ginny awoke, the room was almost completely dark. It must have been well past sundown by then, and wherever she was, there were no other lamps lit. She felt stiff and cold. For a minute or more she just laid where she was, silent and completely still. She couldn't hear any sound suggesting her captor was nearby. Her arms and legs were numb from their lack of use, but this might be her only chance.

She concentrated on curling her hand up as small as she could, then tried pulling it free of the restraint. Slowly she could feel the smooth dragon hide slipping across her wrist and over her hand. A slow, burning sensation climbed toward her elbow where it met a sharper ache from the newly mended bone in her upper arm. Finally, with a flash of pain, her fingers slipped through the loop and her arm was free.

She swallowed her shout of joy and immediately started tugging at the other hand. She couldn't feel her hand anymore, and because her legs were still tied, she couldn't reach the restrained hand with her free one. She pulled at it until the burning pain was almost unbearable.

"You'll have better luck if you work on one your ankles first," a voice called out from the dark. Ginny froze and searched the darkness for its source.

"I tied your other hand a little looser than the rest," he explained. "I figured you'd try to escape and I didn't want to have to mend that bone again after you broke it trying to escape."

"That's very thoughtful of you," she replied acidly.

"I said I wasn't trying to torture you," he told her firmly. "We might be able to help each other. You don't understand the danger you're in."

"No, I don't, alright? I don't understand the danger I'm in. I've been trying to understand it, but the more I learn, the more danger I find myself in," Ginny said testily. "I don't know why D'Anneau was so bloody eager to talk to me when he must have known it would only get him killed. I don't know why the bloody Brotherhood tries to kill me one night and completely ignores me the next. I don't know why I'm tied to a table, why I'm shouting at a stranger in the complete dark, or why I'm so bloody cold in the middle of summer!"

"I can provide you with some of those answers, but I don't think you'll like what you discover," he said cryptically. "Sometimes the answers are more troubling than the questions."

"How poetic," Ginny remarked. "Why don't you untie me and I'll take you to see a friend of mine. He loves those little pieces of wisdom. His name is Grigore Tarus. He's―"

Before Ginny could finish a pair of lamps flared to life, blinding her for a few seconds. As the room faded back into focus, she was struck with a paralyzing terror. She'd been too cold to notice, and now she understood why. Her robes gone, leaving her laying on the table in only her underwear. She immediately tried to cover herself with her free arm.

"Is this your idea of a sick joke?" she snapped. "Or is this my punishment for being disobedient?"

"It was necessary," the wizard explained. "I needed to eliminate the possibility of a Glamor Talisman, and since you haven't turned into a raving lunatic, I'll conclude that you aren't the sort of person who would make a talisman out of bright purple knickers."

"Hey! I like these, they―" Ginny replied quickly, then caught herself. "Quit looking at my knickers!"

"Ginny doesn't have any purple knickers," the wizard told her.

"What?" she shrieked. "How would you know?"

He ignored her. "And I hardly think she would show up to an international convention of wizards wearing socks covered in little dancing piglets."

"They're soft!" she said defensively. "I only wear them under boots. No one can see them."

The wizard sighed heavily and sat down, not really looking away from her, yet not looking at her either. "The sort of transfiguration magic needed for things like this... it's not meant to be used for this long. It can do serious damage to your mind and body. What are you using to do this? If you tell me, I will do my best to reverse any of the effects. Is it the Orthomorphus Charm?"

"It's not any charm," Ginny answered insistently.

"That's what the others said."

"What others?"

"The other Ginnys, Rons and Hermiones," the wizard said in a tired voice. "There was even a Bill and a Neville, but no one really expected them to succeed. They were just diversions. The serious tries have always been Ginny or Hermione. He must be getting quite frustrated, now. You're better than all the rest of them."

"What are you saying?" Ginny asked. "You've been attacked by wizard posing as Hermione and... me?"

"No, not attacked," he replied. "Earlier, you had asked how you could be certain that I really am Harry Potter. It's really quite simple. Only I would ever claim to be Harry Potter. Why would anyone else want this? Who else would want to rip themselves from everyone they cared about just so they could tell their friends from their enemies?

"I wake up some mornings and I can't remember where the night ended and the nightmares began. Some days all I want is to talk with her and make her smile, but the danger it would put her in is... unacceptable. Who would want that? Who would choose to be haunted by everyone they love? After seeing them die enough times, you begin to get used to it and you begin wondering if it would still hurt if it was real."

"You killed them?" Ginny asked quietly.

"I'm not a murderer!" he replied immediately. "I tried to help them. I tried to save them all. I'll try to save you, too, if you let me," he said in a quieter voice. "The Brotherhood always comes for them, and they'll come for you. I don't know what they told you, but they don't care about you. If you were Ron or Bill, you might have a chance, but..." his voice trailed and he looked away for a moment. When he looked back, his eyes were set and cold. "They won't protect you."

As Ginny watched him speak, she felt a tightness in her throat and a warmth growing in her chest. She finally understood. All the pain in his eyes and the sound of his voice, no one could imitate that.

"It's really you, isn't it?" she asked weakly. "What's happened to you? I― I had always hoped you were still alive, but... I had almost given up. Harry, I swear to you, it's Ginny."

"They all say that," Harry replied coldly.

Ginny stared at him. He'd never believe anything she said. Maybe it wasn't what she said, but how she said it. "Come here, Harry," she called to him as she reached for him with her free arm. Slowly, he stood and walked to her side. She ignored the cold draft across her stomach and looked into his eyes.

"Harry, I love you."

The change in his expression was immediate. His eyes softened and the corners of his mouth twitched into a weak smile. "Oh, Ginny," he whispered, "it's really you. I've waited so long. I thought we'd never be together again. That's all changed now."

He leaned closer to her and caressed a lock of her hair as he stared into her eyes. "After I untie you, we'll leave this place. We'll leave and never think about it again. I have more than enough Galleons to let us live comfortably for as long as we want. We can run away and live in a cottage in some Alpine valley. I'll carve broomsticks from the branches of the trees in our yard, you can raise puffskeins and give them cute names, and we'll just be safe and happy."

Ginny gave him an odd look and opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a finger to quiet her.

"Hush, my love," he said sweetly. "We can leave the world behind. We won't have to worry about corrupt politicians in France or the latest trouble the Death Eaters caused. We won't tell anyone where we are," he said as his voice took on a slight edge. "That way, no one will be able to tell us that Ron was murdered in the middle of a match, or that Hermione was killed in a gruesome, mysterious accident late one night. We won't have to hear about your brothers' store exploding and all the unfortunate wizards who died inside it. We can just live in innocent bliss, right up to the moment they come to kill us in our sleep."

Ginny gasped in pain as Harry grabbed her bruised wrist and pushed it down onto the table again. "It's more likely I'd find myself tied to the table as soon as I turned my back on you, or I'd find the Brotherhood waiting for me when I turned the next corner," he said as he mechanically wrapped the dragonhide strap around Ginny's wrist and tied it to the table again.

"I tied it better this time," he said as he walked back to his chair. "You'll break your arm again if you try to escape the same way."

"Whatever you're hoping to accomplish here, I think you should know that I am supposed to meet with Grigore Tarus tomorrow morning," Ginny announced, as she tried to ignore the pain in her wrist. "If I don't show up, he'll know something happened and he'll come looking for me."

"Grigore's pretty resourceful," Harry said over his shoulder. "I'd guess he's already looking for you." As he reached the door, he extinguished one of the lamps.

"You're just going to leave?" Ginny called out. "You're not going to stun me or hit me with a Sleeping Charm or something?"

"No," Harry replied with a slight smile. "You've been hit with enough spells for one day. I don't want to make it seem like I'm torturing you."

"Then give me a quilt or something! I'm freezing!" Ginny shouted.

With a wave of his wand, the last lamp went dark. "I think that's the first honest thing you've said."

* * *

After shivering for what felt like hours, Ginny finally fell into a troubled, restless sleep. In her dreams, she was chasing after a dark wizard, and every time she caught him, she would pull back his hood and find Harry laughing at her. Eventually she gave up, only to find herself in an empty field, feeling much safer but very alone.

She awoke feeling much the same way. She didn't want to think of what the day might bring. It almost seemed better when she was just sleeping. At least then she was only facing her own imagination. The thought of facing Harry seemed more frightening than anything she might dream up.

For quite some time, Ginny tried to simply fall back to sleep. There was no use waking up any earlier than she needed to, and with any luck she might be able to delay long enough for Tarus or his guards to find her. However, no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't force herself back to sleep. She felt warm.

The though raced around her mind. She'd been freezing cold that night. What could have changed? Was the building burning? She wanted to open her eyes, but wasn't sure if she wanted to know just what she'd find. What would she do if there was a fire? What if she had been moved somewhere else? Slowly, she opened her eyes and let them adjust to the dim light of the room.

The reality of the situation was somewhat more difficult to comprehend. At least she would have known what to expect from a fire. The scene before her seemed to defy any explanation. A long black cloak had been draped over her, covering her from her shoulders to down past her feet. It looked almost disturbingly like a shroud, but it had kept her warm ―surprisingly warm, as if it had been charmed to do so.

Ginny lifted her head and found Harry sitting in a chair nearby. He wasn't looking at her. Instead he was slumped forward, staring at a wand he was clutching in his hands. Ginny recognized it as her own. There was something odd about his posture that she couldn't describe.

As if he sensed her gaze, Harry let the wand drop to the dusty floor. "Why are you here?" he asked in a tired voice.

All the frustration and anger from the previous evening rushed back to Ginny. Before she had time to think, she was already speaking. "You're asking me?" she snapped. "I'm here because you tied me to a table."

"That's why you're still here," Harry shot back, his voice suddenly filled with an intense bitterness. "Why did you come here in the first place? What did you hope to accomplish? Why did you think you would succeed after so many others failed?" He lifted his head and stared at her with reddened eyes. "Why are you torturing me? Why do you use her? Why can't you leave her alone? Why do you keep doing this?"

Ginny stared back at him. "I'm not doing anything," she replied.

"Then why are they searching for you?"

"Why is _who_ searching for me?"

"The Brotherhood of the Sacred Balance," he answered sourly. "They're searching the city, asking for witches with red hair. It's only a matter of time before they find this place. If you're not one of them, why are they looking for you?"

"They're probably here to do what they failed to at Giza," Ginny said with a hint of fear creeping into her voice. "If you leave me here, it will be no different than if you killed me yourself. You still want proof I'm really Ginny? Let them come here, and you can read about it in tomorrow's _Daily Prophet_."

"There won't be any article. You're not Ginny," he said defiantly.

"If you're so certain, why did you cover me with your cloak?" she asked.

With a scowl, Harry stood, strode toward her and yanked the cloak off of her. The air in the room felt frigid compared to the soft warmth of the cloak, but she clenched her teeth and refused to react. For some time, he just stood next to her, staring at her silently. It made her feel extremely self-conscious.

"Is this fun for you?" Ginny asked him.

"No," he answered in a lifeless voice. "Ginny has shorter hair."

"It only looks long because I'm tied to a table."

"Ginny's freckles are darker," he challenged.

"It's been a while since I've spent any time outside," she explained. "I spend most of the day in the Ministry or the Leaky Cauldron."

"She has a cluster of them ―three of them in a tight triangle, on her―" Harry closed his eyes and let out a sigh, "―on her lower stomach, a little off to the left."

Ginny's eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped open. "How could you know that?" she shouted. "Nobody knows that!"

"Ginny does," he replied, "but it seems that you didn't."

"They're there," Ginny insisted, "they're just hidden by what little clothes you left on me. If you untie me, I'll show them to you."

Very hesitantly, Harry reached for her stomach. With a single finger, he pushed down her knickers a fraction of an inch, then pulled his hand away as if he'd been scalded. He stared at Ginny in fear, then slowly backed away.

"It's a trick," he mumbled.

"It's not a trick, Harry," Ginny said. "You're so certain that everything is a trap that you can't even recognize when it's not. I can't prove to you that I am who I say I am. At some point you'll just have to trust me."

Without a word, Harry turned and walked out the door. Ginny laid on the table waiting for him to walk back into the room, but he didn't. As time passed, she started to wonder if she'd gone too far. If Harry had left and the Brotherhood really was coming― well, there was no reason for her to think about it. There wouldn't be anything she could do. Harry simply had to return.

* * *

After a few tense minutes, Ginny heard the sound of heavy boots walking toward the room. She took a deep breath and raised her head to look at the door. To her relief, she found Harry standing in it, though his expression was somewhat more troubling. 

"There isn't much time," he told her as he walked into the room. "They're nearby. It won't be long until they find this place. If I'm right, they'll kill you if they find you here. If you're right, they'll still kill you. If you come with me, you'll have a chance, but I can't take you with me until you tell me the truth."

"I am telling the truth!"

"Then you won't mind drinking this," Harry said as he held up a small vial.

"What is it?"

"Veritaserum," Harry answered, "or something like it, at least. I'm pretty sure he said it was the same thing."

Ginny gave the vial a worried look. "If I drink that, you'll untie me and we'll leave?" Harry nodded stiffly. "Fine," Ginny snapped. "If that's what it will take, then I'll do it."

Harry strode over to the side of the table and uncorked the tiny bottle. He paused for a moment, looking suddenly uncertain of what to do next.

"I sure wish I could help you," she told him. "If you just untied one of my hands―"

"I'll do it!" he snapped at her. He held the vial lightly in his right hand and leaned forward. He reached forward to steady her head with his left hand, but as soon as it had touched her jaw and cheek, he froze. He stared into her eyes, and Ginny watched as his eyes filled with sympathy and longing. Suddenly, he jerked his hand away and stared at it as if it had been the cause of his emotions. An instant later, the room echoed with the unfortunate sound of shattering glass.

Harry's expression turned from shocked disbelief to dismay as he looked to his empty hand. As the realization of what had happened struck him, his expression changed quickly to anger. He let out an enraged shout which ended with the sound of glass being crushed under his boot. He spun on his heel, grabbed a nearby lamp and shattered it against the wall. He began pacing, but stopped a few seconds later as a louder crash echoed through the doorway. He pulled his wand from his robes and leaped to the doorway.

"_Petrifacto!_" he shouted. There was a dull rumbling, followed by a deep silence.

He leaped into the next room, and Ginny waited for him to return as sounds of shuffling boots and moving boxes slipped through the open doorway. Moments later, Harry reappeared, carrying a bulging leather bag.

"Harry?" Ginny called out as he began rummaging around the room, "Harry, what's happening?"

As if answering her question, she heard a wizard shouting nearby. "There's nowhere to go, Harry! Don't let this get out of hand like Giza!"

"Untie me, Harry!" she pleaded. "We've got to go!" Harry ignored her. "They'll kill me, Harry," she shouted. "No matter who you think I am, you know they'll do it. You're not that kind of wizard."

Harry didn't respond and went about hastily gathering what he could. He slipped his cloak over his shoulders and then ran over to pick Ginny's wand up off the floor. He paused before slipping it into his pocket, then turned and began walking away.

"We're not here for Ginevra," the voice at the door called out, "and we're not here to kill you, Harry. It never had to be this way."

"Yes, it did, Dragomir," Harry shouted back through the door. "I won't join you. I spent seventeen years fighting the last Dark Lord, I'm not about to help create another one."

"I will not ask again, Harry!" the wizard shouted. "If you come out now, I will promise that no harm will come to Ginevra."

Harry looked at Ginny strangely, then back through the door. He closed his eyes tightly and ran his hand through his hair. He opened his eyes and shot a worried glance at Ginny, and then the door again. A second later, the room shook violently with a deafening explosion.

Before Ginny even knew what was going on, Harry had slammed the door to the room shut, and was pointing his wand at it.

"_Petrifacto!_"

The posts and planks making up the wall shuddered then seemed to expand and darken as a rough grinding noise filled the room. In seconds the whole wall had turned to thick stone. With a frustrated shout, Harry turned his wand on Ginny. Instinctively, she turned away and closed her eyes.

"_Evanesco!_" he shouted.

For a moment she felt a sudden lightness, as if she were floating. It lasted only an instant, however, and the next sensation she felt was the sharp pain of her back slamming onto the floor. She gasped for breath and rolled onto her side. What had happened? She forced her eyes open and looked around her. The table was gone. He'd vanished it. The dragonhide straps lay limp on the floor. He'd set her free.

While she sat gasping and dumbfounded on the floor, something large and soft struck her chest. She blinked at it once then picked it up. It was a roll of cloth.

"They're your robes," Harry shouted as he struggled to lift something against the far wall. "Put them on. It'll be cold where we're going."

Ginny ignored the pain in her limbs, back and chest and hastily pulled her robes on. She found her boots nearby and quickly jammed her feet into them. Harry had pulled up a pair of the floorboards and was sitting on the edge of a large dark hole in the floor.

"If you want to live, you're going to have to follow me and do exactly what I say." Without another word, he pitched forward and disappeared into the hole. A large booming noise shook the room and Ginny saw the petrified wall shudder and crack. Seconds later, she threw herself down the hole as well.

The hole was deeper than she expected, and her legs buckled as she struck the stony floor of the pit. It was dark ―almost impossibly dark. A moment of panic struck her as she realized that she would never be able to reach the hole above her and she had no way of seeing in the dark.

She shakily got back on her feet, and was rewarded by a faint glow ahead of her. She walked toward it as quickly as she dared. A series of dull sounds were echoing around her. It sounded as if she were in some sort of tunnel. She found one of the walls and started walking faster toward the glow. As she neared it, she realized it was Harry. It looked like he was holding her wand in his left hand for light.

"Thank you, I'll need that," she said as she reached for it. At the last second, Harry pulled it out of her reach and twisted slightly to point his wand at her neck. Ginny froze in place, and stared at him.

"What― What's going on, Harry?"

"What color was my birthday present?" he asked in a strained voice.

"What present?" Ginny asked confusedly. "Which birthday?"

"What color was it!" Harry nearly shouted.

Ginny tried to back away from Harry but he followed her, keeping his wand at her throat. "You're not making any sense, Harry!" she shouted back. "What is this about?"

There was a wild, desperate look in Harry's eyes. "_What color was it!_" he screamed.

Behind her, Ginny heard the rumbling of a large explosion and the sound of tumbling stones. The Brotherhood was coming. They'd never get away, now. It was never supposed to be like this, Ginny thought. Harry was supposed to face Voldemort and then return so they could be together. She didn't think anything could prevent that. It wouldn't have mattered if Harry became an Auror or if she had to take some boring job at the Ministry or if they were forced to live in Grimmauld Place―

Ginny's mind froze. Was that what he meant? She stared back at him and saw tears forming in his eyes. As he opened his mouth to start an incantation, Ginny new she only had one chance.

"Green!" she shouted as she cringed. "It was green, like your eyes!" When no curse struck her, she opened her eyes and found Harry staring at her and holding his wand tightly.

"It was a green cake with a single candle," she added. "The candle was too big for the cake, but it was the only one I could find. I didn't think it would matter."

"There was a picture on it," Harry said shakily. "What was it, a Snitch or a Lion?"

Ginny's eyes opened wide. "A picture― What are you talking about? I didn't put anything on it, just the candle. I didn't think anyone would ever―"

Before she could finish, Harry had started shouting something. A flash of panic hit Ginny and the world seemed to slow down around her. There was a bright flash of light from Harry's wand and she felt the hot sparks hitting her skin. A second later there was a sharp explosion followed by the ear splitting noise of falling stone. Harry grabbed her shoulder and pulled her deeper into the tunnel. Ginny stumbled along after him for some time before he finally stopped and allowed her to catch her breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Ginny looked up at him. "Do you believe me now?"

"Yes," Harry replied quickly. "I guess so. Can you Apparate?"

"Of course I can, what did―"

"Try to go to Grimmauld Place, then," he said as he returned her wand. "Don't ask questions. Go now."

"I'm not leaving you, not―"

"Go!" he ordered. "I'll follow you." When she hesitated he got angry. "I'm trusting you, you're going to have to trust me."

Ginny nodded and focused on the alley she normally Apparated into. She felt the world disappear around her and the crushing feeling of Apparation, but it disappeared much too quickly and an instant later she found herself stumbling in the dark again. She opened her eyes and found Harry frowning at her.

"I know how to Apparate!" she told him. "I don't know what went wrong!"

"It's not your fault," he replied. "It means they're already putting up Anti-Apparation wards. Come on. If we run, we might be able to get someplace they haven't covered yet."

Harry lit his wand and slung the bag over his shoulder. Together, they ran down the empty tunnel for quite a ways. When they stopped again, Ginny was gasping for breath.

"Try again," Harry told her.

Ginny did, but the result was the same. She collapsed onto the stone floor and tried to catch her breath. Harry sat down nearby and opened his bag. After some rummaging about, he handed Ginny a bottle of water and a small loaf of bread. She was starving and accepted both of them immediately.

"Where are we?" she asked after she had finally relaxed.

"We're in a tunnel which used to run from the castle to the Gatehouse. I think it was dug as an extra escape route from the castle in case it was ever attacked again. To keep it open, the walls were charmed to resist spells. That shaft hadn't been protected for some reason, but the rest of the charms seem to be in place."

"So we can get to the castle?" Ginny asked as she ripped off another chunk of bread.

"Not any more," Harry answered. "Even if I hadn't just filled the way to the Castle with rubble, the Castle entrance is sealed."

"So what do we do now?"

"We rest," he told her. "We're not far from the castle right now, and it'd be a long walk even if we were taking the High Street. I think this is going to be quite a bit longer. There's no point in running now. They know we're trying to escape. They'll have wards covering the entire city by now."

"What about the High Street?" she asked, "There were loads of guards on it. If we could make it there, we could find a guard and raise the alarm. They were all ordered to protect me."

"Even if we could somehow make it to the High Street safely, we wouldn't get much help from the guards," he said. "Most of them are either being paid by the Brotherhood or are members themselves. Some of them might help us, but I doubt we could find them. The Brotherhood will have made sure none of them would be around. If we see any guards, we have to assume they are Brotherhood members."

"But... Tarus trusts them. He doesn't know, does he?"

"Yes, I'm certain he does," Harry answered. "Grigore knows much more than he shares with others."

"But he's in danger! We have to find some way to warn him!"

"Right now, we are in greater danger than Grigore Tarus," Harry said. "He is very resourceful when he needs to be. Don't worry about him. Worry about yourself."

"Why do I need to worry about any of us?" Ginny asked. "What is happening? Tarus said that a war was coming. You said it, too. There's a new Dark Lord coming, isn't there?" Harry nodded solemnly. "I saw him in Giza," she said. This caught Harry's attention and he watched her as she explained what had happened.

"What is going on, Harry?" she asked finally. "Why is the Brotherhood hunting me? Twice now they've set traps for me. What does this new Dark Lord want with me?"

"He doesn't want you at all," Harry replied in an empty tone, "he wants to destroy me, just like the last Dark Lord." He turned toward Ginny with a sympathetic expression. "No one was setting traps for you. They were setting traps for me. You were just the bait to draw me out."

"That's why I didn't come back," he said heavily. "It started almost immediately after Voldemort's defeat. I think he had been waiting for me to confront Voldemort. I don't think he really cared who won. Maybe he hoped we would kill each other and leave him without anyone to stand in his way. It doesn't matter.

"I didn't realize how serious it was until it was too late. Once I realized what was happening, I tried to stop it, but I was betrayed. With help from a number of other wizards, I managed to escape with my life, but they didn't escape with theirs. One by one, the Brotherhood turned on them. They were killed whether they fought back or not. If they ran, they were reported as criminals. If they hid, their families were killed.

"Everywhere I turned, I found the Brotherhood turning good wizards against me and killing those who wouldn't. I had no choice. I had to remain hidden, if only for the safety of everyone around me."

"Tarus said the same thing," Ginny commented. "He also said that it won't be long before it won't be possible to keep it hidden."

"Well, it's reassuring that I'm not the only one," Harry said with obvious frustration. "If he says that we won't be able to keep it secret for much longer, then maybe it's best that you found me before the Brotherhood―" Harry stopped abruptly and looked away.

Sensing a change in his mood, Ginny leaned toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Harry. I've been through worse."

He turned back toward her, but kept his eyes down. "I'm― I'm sorry about Charlie. I knew he was going to be there, but... You can't imagine how―"

"Don't blame yourself, Harry," Ginny said in a comforting tone. "I know about Charlie. He made a mistake, but he was trying to fix it. He made his own decision. Tarus told me how brave he was to stand against the new Dark Lord. Charlie made him promise to keep me safe."

Harry simply stared at her for some time, then dropped his face again. "He was brave," Harry agreed. "All he wanted was to keep his friends and family safe. He could never have killed anyone. I knew the danger he was in. I tried to stop him. I tried to protect him, but he didn't listen to me. He thought he could keep all of us safe."

"I know, Harry. There's no Prophecy this time. You won't have to fight him alone," she said encouragingly. "I can help you. I'm not going to let another dark wizard terrorize the world like Voldemort did. I won't let him get away with killing my brother. Neither will Ron or Hermione. We'll all help you this time."

"No," Harry said with a sudden urgency. "No, you can't. It's too dangerous."

"How can it be more dangerous than having a pack of dark wizards blow up a cottage to try and kill me?"

"Didn't you listen? They don't want you. It's me they want. If anyone else figures out I'm alive, the Prophet will plaster it all across Britain. It will start a war."

"The war is already here, Harry," she argued.

"Maybe, but not for Ron and Hermione, and not for you. Not yet," he said insistently. "The Brotherhood will not harm you. They need you as bait. So long as we're apart, you still have a use to them, and they will believe they still might be able to use me without killing me," he explained. "I don't want you to end up like Sabine D'Anneau."

"Don't talk that way, Harry," Ginny said, chastising him. "You're nothing like Henri D'Anneau. He was a horrible man and he got just what he deserved. Sabine is better off without him."

Harry glared at her. "Henri was a git. He got what he wanted because he sold every bit of decency he had to buy it. He committed crimes so horrible that I barely know how to describe them. He made himself rich and powerful by using others, but he was too daft to realize that he was just a pawn in the plan of someone much smarter than him. To say he got what he deserved is an insult to the concept of justice."

Ginny recoiled in confusion. "Then... what did you mean?"

"I don't bloody care about Henri D'Anneau," he replied. "He deserved death seven times over, but Sabine didn't. They killed her because of what she knew about Henri."

"No, the Prophet was wrong about her, too," Ginny said with a slight smile. "Sabine is still alive. She must have escaped from the camp that night when―"

"Sabine is dead Ginny," Harry interrupted. "They killed her."

"No, she's not," she insisted. "I just saw her yesterday. I spoke with her before I left. She―" Ginny paused as she remembered the conversation. "She told me not to come here," she said in a weak voice. "She said it was dangerous and that Tarus wouldn't be able to protect me."

Harry winced upon hearing the news. "She was accused of attacking two guards. The German ministry took her from the Weserburg and locked her in a prison cell. They found her dead this morning. They, er... They're still looking for her sisters and her parents. I doubt they're alive."

The shock numbed Ginny. "Why― They'd already killed her husband. What did she do to deserve that?"

"What did she do to deserve her husband's murder?" Harry asked. "I don't think there is another woman in the whole world who was more deserving of a dead husband. If it would have been possible, I think she would have given anything to have Henri killed."

"Well, why did she marry him?"

"Because Henri D'Anneau always got what he wanted. Sabine used to be his supervisor in the French Ministry. He always had enough ambition for eight normal wizards, and I think he resented the fact that Sabine was a year younger than he was. The resentment grew to a deep hatred, and with time, that hatred became an obsession. At some point, it seems he asked her to marry him, though it was more likely a demand.

"She turned him down. It was said that she had loathed him from the moment they met. The tension grew between them until Sabine was finally able to force Henri to be re-assigned to the department which handled magical sports. In response, he... introduced himself to Sabine's younger sister.

"I only heard stories of the fights they used to have. Sabine fought back as hard as she could, but she lacked Henri's ability to ignore right and wrong. One day, Sabine's brother came down with a horrible illness. No one could understand what caused it or guess what might cure it. Two days later, her sister became ill with the same symptoms. Then her other sister. They were all quite close to death and no healer could find any way to fight it. Sabine refused to talk about it, and they kept it a secret from the rest of the world. One day they simply recovered. A week later, Sabine and Henri were married. It was always known that if she ever did anything to upset him, their illness would mysteriously return.

Ginny didn't know what to say. The more she found out about Henri D'Anneau, the more it nauseated her to think that she had been trying to help him. No wonder Harrington and everyone else was so suspicious of her.

"Sabine knew that she and her family would only remain alive as long as she did whatever Henri demanded. When he was killed, she knew they would come for her. It sounds like she used her last chance to speak out to warn you."

"I don't understand," Ginny said. "She barely told me anything. I still don't know what I'm avoiding. I don't know what is going on. Every time I am about to figure something out, the Brotherhood stops me. Who is this new Dark Lord? How did he get the Brotherhood to help him? Why am I in more danger here than in Britain?"

"With enough time, I might be able to explain it all to you," he told her, "but it's too risky. I promise you I'll explain everything eventually, but you'll be safer if you don't know right now."

"That's what Hermione said, but it never kept me safe," Ginny argued.

"It really did, and it kept me safe, too. If you were to know everything you asked, you would be a threat to the Brotherhood. So long as you don't know about them, you're not a threat to them. Sabine knew about them, and that's why they killed her."

Ginny sighed in frustration and glared at Harry.

"I promise I'll tell you more when it's safer. With a little luck, we'll be able to discuss this more. Right now, we need to get moving."

Ginny slowly struggled to her feet. Her whole body felt sore and her heart was still pounding in her chest. She didn't know if it was from the stress of the last few minutes or from her shock at being so close to a living, talking Harry Potter.

With both of their wands lit, it was much easier to see the tunnel they were walking through. It was narrow enough that she could have stretched her arms from one wall to the other, but tall enough that she could only dimly see the ceiling. For the most part, the stone was smooth and even, though not polished. At times it would widen into small chambers no larger than a decent sized room, and there the stone would be much rougher, as though it were a room that had never been finished.

Ginny tried to remember how far it had looked from the Castle to the Gatehouse. It felt like they should have already been there, but Harry hadn't made any comment about their progress. Instead, he seemed to be shining his wand around the tunnel as if he were searching for something.

"You do know where we are, right?" she asked.

"We're in a tunnel," he replied.

"Thanks, that's amazingly helpful," Ginny replied sarcastically. "Do you know where in the tunnel we are?"

Harry stopped and aimed his wand toward the ceiling. "I'd say we're in the botton half of the tunnel." Then he turned and continued walking without seeing the scowl on Ginny's face.

"You really think now is the best time for humor? We're running from wizards who you can't even tell me about without putting me in mortal danger and you're making jokes?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Harry replied mockingly, "was there something else you were concentrating on? That little room we passed five minutes ago really was an amazing shade of grey, wasn't it? Oh look!" he said, pointing to the wall. "A crack. Fascinating."

"Are you trying to keep something from me, Harry? Do you not know where we're going?"

Harry stopped and glared at her. "Alright, why don't you lead the way."

Ginny glared back at him. "That's not what I meant, Harry. You're acting strange, like you were looking for something. I was worried that―"

"That we took a wrong turn?" Harry interrupted. "Maybe we should have taken the other door? Maybe we went up one too many flights of stairs," He shone his wand ahead of them and then behind them. "Take a look, Ginny. There's nowhere to go. A wad of parchment and stiff breeze could lead us through this maze."

"Then what―"

"It's a bit odd for me, you know," he said as he looked down at his feet. "I hadn't expected this to happen. Not yet. And then I― Well, it's a bit awkward, isn't it?" He turned and continued walking into the darkness ahead of them. "I guess I'm still adjusting to it. It's been so long since we've seen each other―"

"Has it?" Ginny replied sharply. "Weren't you at Ron's match? You ran away from me, and disappeared into the crowd. And then I saw you again at the Ministry. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Harry said over his shoulder.

"But those weren't the only times were they?"

"No," he answered. "I try to keep track of what you are doing. I've been watching Hermione and Ron and the rest of your family, too."

"Hopefully not as closely as you've been watching me," she said.

"It was harder when you were at Hogwarts, but I trust McGonagall," he explained. "After you left, yeah, I've kept a close eye on you. You're in much more danger than Ron or Hermione."

"Right. And just how closely were you watching me?"

There was a moment of hesitation in Harry's steps. "What do you mean?" he asked in a confused tone.

"Why did you think I didn't have purple knickers?" she questioned. When Harry didn't reply, she kept pressing him. "You must have some idea of what color knickers I do have if you were willing to claim that none of them were purple. I don't think you were just bluffing."

There was a moment of silence before Harry finally responded. "You keep a wardrobe of clothes at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place," he said. "I check them for curses regularly, and well..."

"What about the freckles, then?"

"The freckles?" Harry said in a strangled voice. "I, er... I mean... It's the summer, isn't it? And I was always used to your freckles being darker, in the―"

"The other freckles," she said, stopping his rambling excuse.

"I, er... which other―"

"You know which freckles, Harry," Ginny nearly shouted. "That's not something you're used to seeing in the summer. That's not something _anyone_ is used to seeing."

"I can't remember when it was, really," Harry started explaining. "I didn't mean to... I didn't know you were there―"

"Try again, Harry," she said. "They're not the sort of thing you see through a crack in the door. You'd have to be pretty close to see them, and I think I'd have noticed―" Ginny's voice caught and she stopped abruptly.

Harry heard her boots scuffle in the dust on floor of the tunnel and spun around to see what had happened. He aimed the light at her, and saw the look of horror on her face. He spun around to check the tunnel behind him, but it was just as empty as it was before. He turned back to Ginny, and found red blossoms of color spreading across her face.

"The Invisibility Cloak," she said weakly. "That's why I never saw you in the house. You could have been sitting at the kitchen table the day I made your cake and I never would have known. And you'd still have been sitting there when―" She covered her face with her hands, hoping to hide her shock and embarrassment. She had always thought she'd been alone in the house. It felt silly walking to a bedroom or closet to change into different clothes.

"That's how you know what color knickers I wear," she said through her hands. "It'd take more than one time for you to pick out three freckles as some sort of identifying mark. You can't even see them with most of my―" She dropped her hands and stared at Harry. "How many times have you watched me?" she asked insistently. When he didn't respond, she stepped closer and raised her voice. "How many times, Harry?" He stared back at her for a moment, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"There may not be a way out of this tunnel."

"_What?_"

"This tunnel is supposed to go from the Castle to the Gatehouse. I entered from the Castle entrance and I've never seen the Gatehouse entrance. It used to be there, but most of the old Gatehouse was torn down to make shops and pubs. I found the shaft leading to that old shop before. I guess I figured there would be another one."

"And you waited until now to tell me this?"

"I'm sort of happy I did," mumbled Harry.

"Harry!" Ginny shouted. "What are we going to do?"

"Spend the rest our lives together?"

"This isn't funny, Harry!" Ginny scolded him.

"Maybe not, but to be honest, I'm much more comfortable talking about this than the last topic," he replied calmly.

Ginny gave a frustrated sigh. "How far away are we?"

"It can't be much farther," he said. "The ceiling is getting lower. There's still some chance that there will just be a locked door at the end. That's easy enough to deal with. And if not... well, let's wait and see what we fine, alright?"

"No, it's not alright," Ginny snapped. "Did you have any plan at all when you jumped down that hole?"

"Not really," he answered. "I didn't have much time, did I? It wasn't like I planned to see you here. Did you have any plan when you ran off down a dark alley after someone you thought was a dark wizard?"

"That's completely different!"

"How?"

"It just is," Ginny replied with finality. "Now, can we get moving again? I'd rather know for certain if you've buried us alive or not."

With a shrug and a frown, Harry turned and continued walking along the tunnel. It didn't take long before it was obvious that the tunnel ceiling was getting lower. Of course, it wasn't really the ceiling which was dropping, but the floor which was imperceptibly sloping upward to meet it.

The lower the ceiling got, the more anxious she became. Harry seemed to feel it too and without any signal, they both began walking faster, until they were jogging through the suddenly cramped tunnel. Just when she was about to stop to catch her breath, Harry slid to a stop in front of her and she slammed into his back, sending them both crashing to the ground.

For a moment there was complete darkness as they disentangled themselves. As Ginny braced herself against the wall and stood up, she realized she didn't have her wand.

"Harry! I lost my wand," she called out.

"We've got bigger problems," Harry replied dejectedly. There was a flash of light, and Ginny saw Harry sitting on the floor of the tunnel nearby, lit by the soft light of his wand. Not far away, Ginny saw her wand laying in the crack between the wall and the floor.

"What is it, Harry?" Ginny asked as she reached for her wand.

"Remember when I said some answers are worse than the questions? This is another one of those times."

Ignoring his warning, Ginny held up her wand and said, "Lumos." The tip of her wand blazed, casting sharp shadows against the wall. She pointed her wand down the tunnel and for a second, her heart leaped. Not far away the tunnel ended in complete darkness. She ran towards it, but her hopes were dashed as she saw light shining off the darkness.

At the end of the tunnel was a wall of smooth stone made of tightly laid, large black bricks. She ran her hand across the wall but felt only the same chill of the other tunnel walls. Her heart began beating faster. They were trapped. They'd never find a way out. With a wild shout she slammed her free hand against the wall. The impact travled back down her arm and made her cry out a second time, in pain.

"There has to be something we can do," Ginny said as she nursed her arm.

"What would you suggest? Fire? Maybe a nice explosion in a cramped tunnel?"

"Oh, so we should just sit here and die!" Ginny shouted.

Harry walked up to her and held out his hand in a calming gesture. "We have food for another day or so. We might be able to find some part of the tunnel that wasn't charmed. One of the chambers, maybe."

"I'd kill you if I thought it'd do me any good!" Ginny shouted.

"Well, there'd be enough food for two days, then," Harry shouted back.

"At least you finally came up with a plan!"

"I'm not staying here with all this yelling."

"Well, you're free to go," Ginny replied.

"Go where?" Harry asked.

Ginny stared at him. "You said you weren't staying here."

"I didn't say anything."

A faint voice filled the tunnel. "See there?" it said. "You heard that. I specifically asked for a room that was not haunted."

Harry stepped forward to study the wall. "It's coming from the other side of this wall. It must not be very thick. It might not be protected by the charms the rest of the walls are."

Ginny set her jaw, then grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back away from the wall. Her arm extended, aiming her wand at the center of the wall.

"_Reduc―_"

Before she finished, Harry had jumped for her wand and wrenched it from her grasp.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"Are you daft?" He shouted. "There are wizards on the other side of that wall!" He quickly strode forward and touched his wand to the bricks.

"_Genoportus!_"

Slowly, the bricks seemed to squeeze apart until they had formed a short, narrow doorway through the stone wall and into a dimly lit room. Harry pushed Ginny through the opening and then slipped through himself before it closed with sharp crack.

The room they had entered was richly decorated with a pair of golden lamps casting a warm glow across the ceiling. A trio of wizards were standing in the room with them, two in long formal robes and a third in something of a uniform.

"What is the meaning of this!" one of the ones in long robes shouted. "What kind of establishment is this?"

"Stun them," Harry told Ginny. He aimed his wand at the one who'd spoken. A second later, a red beam shot from his wand and the wizard dropped to the floor. Ginny had frozen and was staring at the stunned wizard. The other long robed wizard was doing the same. The uniformed wizard was already running for the door.

"Stun him!" Harry commanded as he ran for the door. Ginny ignored her own fears and confusion and aimed her wand at the other wizard. He stared back at her in complete terror. Ginny closed her eyes, and tried to concentrate.

"_Stupefy_!"

When she opened her eyes, the wizard was laying next to his companion. There was a flash of red light as Harry stunned the third wizard. He returned quickly and gave her a disapproving look.

"Why did we have to do that, Harry?" she asked. "They could have helped us."

"Why would they do that? Did you forget already? We're the one's running from the city guard. As far as anyone else knows, we're criminals," he explained. "They'll wake up feeling lucky they were just stunned and not killed."

Ginny didn't feel quite so certain, but there was no time to argue with Harry. He was already walking back to the door. She followed him and walked into a huge room. The ceiling was several floors above them and a large wooden staircase wound around the walls toward the ceiling.

"We're in the cellar of one of the old towers," Harry told her. "They turned it into an inn. It's quite close to the Gatehouse. They have a fireplace there which is kept connected to the British Floo System at all times. It's for Ministry use only. That's where we're going."

He ran for the stairs, pulling Ginny behind him. After walking up four flights of stairs, they'd attracted the attention of a number of wizards. There were some shouts from the cellar beneath them, and Harry picked up his pace. Two flights up from where they were, Ginny could see a row of stone pillars. That must have been the ground floor.

As they neared the final flight of stairs, Harry stopped and signaled for Ginny to stay where she was. He ran ahead and stealthily surveyed the ground floor. After only a few seconds, he returned.

"I guess it's about time that we had some good luck. The Brotherhood doesn't know where the tunnel exit is. It looks like they're guarding the gate between the High Street and the courtyard. They don't know we're already inside," he explained with a faint smile.

He quickly led Ginny just far enough up the stairs so she could see the ground floor of the tower. Each of the four walls around her were broken up into three separate arches, one large arch flanked by two smaller arches and gigantic square pillars at each of the corners. It gave the place a feeling of spaciousness and elegance while retaining the imposing strength of the former tower.

One of the large arches was decorated in gold and framed by the branches of two trees planted inside the building. Through the archway, Ginny could see an open area paved in pale stone and decorated with plants and fountains. Walking about the courtyard were a number of wizards, including a few pairs of wizards in familiar purple robes.

Harry pointed through the arch toward another large arch with a barred wooden door. "That's the door we need to go through," he told her. "Once you get through that door, you'll be in wide corridor. Take the first left you see ―there's only one― and follow it as far as you can. You should find yourself in a large room with a fireplace. Toss in one of these―" he paused to hand her what seemed to be a small envelope filled with powder, "―and go somewhere safe, just don't go to the Ministry."

"What about them?" Ginny said, pointing at the guards.

"Stun them, confund them, do anything that can keep them from following us, but try not to kill them. They're good wizards for the most part," Harry said with a frown, "they've just been... deceived." Harry rummaged through his bag quickly and pulled out a shimmering bundle of cloth. "You do remember how to use this, don't you?" he asked as he handed it to Ginny.

Ginny nodded slowly and he continued his instructions. "Once you put that on, I won't be able to see you. I'm going to do what I can to make sure no one follows us. I need you to get that door open and run. Don't wait for me and don't call for me. I'm going to trust you to see that you escape, and you'll have to trust me to follow you. I'll see you in the kitchen."

Ginny nodded and wrapped the cloak around her body, leaving just her head visible. "Wait!" she called out as Harry turned to walk up the last few stairs. "Shouldn't you be wearing this? I mean, you're the one who's supposed to be dead. If they see me, they might not do anything."

"That's not a risk I want to take," he whispered. "None of them really believe I was ever dead. If they see you here, they'll know that you're here with me. If they only see me, there might be some doubt about whether I took you with me or not. That might buy us an extra day or so." He looked out into the courtyard again and took a deep breath.

"Come on, we should go now. The guards just passed by." Harry pulled his bag tight to his back, raised his wand, and began walking up the steps. Ginny pulled the cloak over her head, tightened the grip on her own wand and followed him. Harry stalked toward the archway to the courtyard, his posture alert and somewhat aggressive. A number of wizards milling about the building stopped to stare at him, but he ignored them and continued on. When he reached the arch he paused.

"Ginny?" he called out into the space behind him. "Take note of that door. It might get a little difficult to see soon." Ginny turned and tried to study the door. It was more than twice as tall as she was and a heavy wooden beam had been placed across it at about the height of her head. She turned so that she was directly facing it. When she turned back to look at Harry, his wand was pointed at the center of the courtyard. A pair of cloaked guards and another tall wizard were staring at him.

"Go!" he commanded. "Go now!"

With her heart pounding in her chest, Ginny turned and ran toward the door, dodging a pair of elderly wizards. When she was halfway to the door, a loud shout split through the morning air.

"_Turbio!_"

A second later, Ginny felt a gust of wind followed by the sensation of being drenched with water. She was still on her feet, but it was nearly impossible to see. An impossibly dense fog had filled the courtyard, turning it into a confusing world of blindingly bright mist and unrecognizable shadows. Closing her eyes, she carefully walked forward and ignored the cacophony of shouts behind her.

"Halt!" a wizard shouted angrily as she bumped into him. "Stay clear! The Gatehouse it closed! Find shelter somewhere else."

Ginny concentrated on the direction of the voice and raised her wand. "_Stupefy_!" she shouted, and watched a beam of red light lance through the fog and strike a wizard. Hoping she'd hit the right one, she raced forward and felt the surface of the door, now clammy from the mist. She took a step back and tried a number of charms and spells on the door but it wouldn't budge.

A new sense of urgency struck her as she realized the mist was beginning to thin out. Without it, there would be nowhere for them to hide. Even the Invisibility Cloak wouldn't be able to hide her. She squinted at the door, hoping to see something that might help her out. It was was almost absurdly strong, with dark iron reinforcing ancient wood. The enchantments on it were probably so old that no one even remembered them.

A roaring wind picked up behind her, and she was tossed against the door. She grabbed onto one of the door's enormous gold hinges and waited for it to die down enough for her to use her wand again. An idea struck her suddenly. The Gatehouse had been built for strength, not beauty. The gold hinges were probably added later, possibly without the enchantments laid on the door. She carefully held her wand tip to the hinge.

"_Fervenso_!"

Slowly, the hinge began to glow red hot, then slowly twist and pull itself away from the door. Ginny stepped back and hit the other hinge. A second later, the door gave a shudder, dropping molten gold onto the stone below.

"_Reducto_!" she shouted.

The door held firm, but the impact wrenched one side free of its hinges and it slowly fell forward, twisting and pulling the other door with it. A number of shouts rang out across the courtyard as the doors slammed to the ground with an ear-splitting crash.

_Trust Harry, trust Harry,_ Ginny chanted in her head, then turned and leaped through the door and into a large stone corridor with a vaulted ceiling. The sounds of the battle in the courtyard echoed down the corridor, causing a stab of panic as she wondered how Harry could possibly face them all.

A large arch loomed ahead of her; as she passed under it, there were two wide halls leading off in either direction. She paused for a moment to look back behind her, and saw a cloud of dark smoke with flashes of light obscuring the door. If there was fighting, then they hadn't caught him yet. Ginny took a breath and ran down the hall to her left. At the end of the hall, she saw a doorway guarded by a single wizard.

"_Stupefy_!"

The wizard dropped, and with another flick of her wand, the doors flew open revealing a fancy looking parlor. Just as Harry had told her, there was a large fireplace stretching along one of the walls. She pulled out the small envelope Harry had given her and she threw it into the flames. For a moment nothing happened, then green flames burst from the center of the fire, filling the fireplace.

Ginny pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and stepped into the fire, but hesitated for a moment. She hadn't heard anything since she had turned the corner. What if Harry was in trouble? How long would the flames last? What could it hurt to check? No one could see her. She took a step out of the flames, but an insistent voice in the back of her head called out:

_Trust Harry. _

She stepped back into the fireplace. Harry was coming. He would follow her. She would meet him at Grimmauld Place. They would be safe.

"Diagon Alley!"

As the room swirled away, Ginny caught a glimpse of a wizard running into the room with a dark cloak draped over his arm like some sort of shield. The scene disappeared a moment later in dizzying blur of hundreds of fireplaces. The world stopped spinning suddenly, tossing her to the floor roughly.

"Good morning, Miss Weasley," a familiar voice called out to her. "I've never seen you here this early. Is there something I can get for you?"

Ginny slowly stood up, and walked unsteadily toward the bar, where Tom had stopped wiping a large mug to stare at her. "No, Tom, I'm fine," she said. The pub was almost completely empty. A few stray wizards were strewn about the room, but there was one familiar face. Sitting right where she expected him to be was Albert. He smiled and raised a glass to her before draining it and dropping it back to the bar.

"Finally quit your job, did you?" he called out with a laugh. "About time, too. I never could understand why wizards had them. Seemed an awful waste of perfectly good lives, especially for a witch like you. Come on over," he said with a sweep of his bottle, "we'll drink to your new found freedom!"

"I didn't quit my job, Albert," Ginny said as she tried to control her dizziness.

"You certain?" he asked. "You look like you've been drinking all night, and not very well, I'd say."

"No, it was just a long trip on the Floo," Ginny said as she sat down on a stool. She just needed to rest a moment. She knew she couldn't stay for long.

"Oh, a long trip? Where would that be from?"

"Germany," she lied. "I'm one of the delegates for the Site Selection Committee. Or at least I was one."

"Oh," Albert said with a frown. "Well, let's drink to you not losing your job then!"

"Albert, if I drank any of that, I doubt I'd have a job."

"All the more reason to do it," he laughed as he pulled out a second glass, filled it, and slid it toward Ginny.

"No, no. I have to go," she insisted. "I've got to go." She stood up and waved at the two of them.

Albert frowned and cocked his head at the second glass. With one fluid motion, he picked it up and emptied it. Then he drank the first with the same ease and nodded to Ginny as she walked off.

She left the Leaky Cauldron and took a moment to see if anyone might be following her. After only a few seconds, she decided it wasn't worth it and Disapparated with a slight pop.

* * *

Harry had felt his heart leap at the sound of the door crashing to the stone courtyard. It was the sound of escape and Ginny's safety. He wasn't far from the door, but he needed to give her time to get to the Warden's Office. Though it pained him slightly to do it, he jabbed his wand at an ancient tree standing near the gate and it burst into flames. He warded off a few more attacks, then bolted for the door.

A quick slash of his wand brought the burning tree down behind him, scattering a number of wizards just looking for some amount of safety from the fury he'd unleashed. As he ran into the corridor, the rug caught fire behind him, putting a thick cloud of black smoke between him and the Brotherhood wizards. He caught a glimpse of Ginny turning the corner and couldn't help but smile.

They were going to make it.

He ran on, turning around occasionally to fire a hex over his shoulder. As he reached the large chamber between the two halls, he felt a curse slam into his back. He sprawled across the floor and his bag tumbled against a large stone column. He hadn't thought his Shield Cloak would take another hex, but it seemed that Fred and George had done even better than they had said.

He scrambled to his feet, ripped off the old cloak and jumped for his bag. As he ran back across the corridor to, another hex shot past his head. This time it was an all too familiar green light. It was time for him to go. As he ran down the hall, he pulled his last set of Shield Robes from his bag and draped them over his arm. They wouldn't stop the Killing Curse, but it couldn't hurt either.

He could hear them running after him, but he kept ducking behind plants and pillars, refusing to give them a clear shot at him. Finally he saw the door to the Warden's Office. A wizard was lying stunned on the floor and the doors were forced open, one of them hanging loosely from only one of its hinges.

Harry dashed into the room and saw the whirling green flames as Ginny spun off to safety. He reached into his pocket, and threw his own packet of Floo Powder into the fireplace from across the room. He ran for the flames, and just as he stepped into them, they flashed green. He turned, and saw a pair of cloaked wizard burst into the room.

"The Redcap's Revenge!" he shouted, and the room swirled away.

A moment later he found himself rolling onto the dusty floor of the Redcap's Revenge, a seedy wizarding pub nestled in a rather poor neighborhood of York. The bartender there was nearly blind and couldn't have been able to tell Harry from Ginny. Without a single word, Harry crawled to his feet and dashed for the door. Once outside, he Disapparated.

After running across the street, he ducked into Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. It was completely silent. He ran for the kitchen, but it was deserted. He checked the parlor, the cellar and the two nearby bedrooms, finding nothing. Upon returning to the kitchen, he found Kreacher standing near the fireplace scowling at him.

"Master returns," he said with disdain. "Someday, master will not return."

"Enough, Kreacher," Harry shouted. "Where is Ginny?"

"The flame-haired harlot?" Kreacher laughed. "Filthy thing ran away. Maybe the horror of the shame she brought to my old Mistress's house has finally overwhelmed her."

"Has she been here today?" Harry questioned him.

A sour look spread across Kreacher's face. "No," he said sharply. "And Kreacher doesn't want her here! Good riddance!"

Harry turned and ran for the door. He'd seen her leave. She had to be somewhere. She probably went to Diagon Alley. Why didn't he tell her not to go there? He should have known they'd be waiting for her. With a frustrated shout, he ripped the door open, and came face to face with a very shocked Ginny Weasley.

"Harry!"

Harry grabbed her shoulder, and tugged her into the old house. Before she could say another word, he'd pulled her to him and held her tightly.

"Are we safe?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. "We're safe."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

And there was much rejoicing.

So, Harry finally joined the story, and in a memorable way. I said this chapter was going to be fun (back when it was originally Chapter 10), and hopefully people are going to enjoy it.

There are several things in this chapter that are interesting to point out, and a good number of things which will be hints toward the rest of the story. This chapter pretty firmly establishes the Brotherhood as a group of wizards Ginny no longer wants to find. Now that Harry is around, Ginny's going to be slowly learning more about what has been going on and what she's missed.

Also, for the person who asked about the release schedule (but didn't email me or leave an address for me to respond to), I'm putting chapters out at about one a week or so. This week is going to be an empty week while I work out some details of the next section of the story. I don't know if that's faster or slower than you might expect, but that's about how long it takes.


	12. Too Many Secrets

**Chapter 12**

**Too Many Secrets**

Ginny let her head droop over the hot cup of tea, breathing in the vapors and letting them clear her head. She was sore and tired and the stress of the last twelve hours was quickly catching up with her. She'd have collapsed onto the table the moment she sat down if she hadn't been looking into the eyes of a wizard she had almost taken for dead.

"Is this all real?" she asked in a groggy voice. "It is, isn't it? This isn't some fantasy I've dreamed up after being attacked by those wizards in the alley or some nightmare while I'm still sleeping in that castle in Germany?"

"No, this is real," Harry reassured her, "but if it weren't, I don't know if it would be a fantasy or a nightmare."

"What happened in that alley?" Ginny asked absentmindedly. "That was you I was following, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was, though you were doing a horrible job of it," he said. "After running through the market, I ducked into that shop we were in, and you just ran right past it into a dead-end alley full of thieves." Harry paused to rub his eyes. "I wanted to leave you to them. At least I wouldn't have to see it. I've never been able to do it, though. I always fight back. I guess part of me always hoped it really was you."

"What did you do to them?" Ginny asked reluctantly.

"Nothing worse than what they did to you," he replied. "They've never seen my face, and they don't know who I am, but it wasn't the first time they've seen me. The people of the Lower City share an odd respect for me. I'm sure it helps that I've learned quite a few tricks since I left Hogwarts." He took a sip of his tea and leaned back in his chair. "I let them know that you were coming with me. They decided that the ability to walk was worth more than you."

"You're different, Harry," Ginny said with a frown. "There's something... darker in your eyes. I've never seen you enjoy threatening people."

Harry looked contemplative for a moment. "Maybe I have changed, but not as much as it might appear." he replied firmly. "It's been a long year. I've seen more than I know how to explain."

"Where have you been?" Ginny finally asked. "I've looked everywhere for you. Hermione and Ron, too. All I ever found was mocking answers and piteous looks."

Harry leaned back farther and looked at the ceiling. "I've been so many places, Ginny. I went away for a while, but not long. Since then I've been moving around a lot. I've been to France, Italy, Greece, Spain, and even Brazil. Of course, I've also been to Egypt."

"So you _were_ in Egypt?"

"Yes, I was there. I was trying to protect you from― Well, it worked," he said with a shrug. "When I saw that wizard cast the Killing Curse from the rooftops, I― It's been a long time since I felt anger like that."

"That was you, then? The explosions and the wind?"

"You were supposed to _run_," Harry said. "I would have taken care of them."

"How was I supposed to know?" Ginny replied sharply. "I guess I was a little paranoid after watching a wizard killed for simply walking with me."

"Stefan," Harry murmured. "He was killed for more than just walking with you. He used to be one of them. He'd been helping me for weeks. I told him it was dangerous, but― He felt he needed to repay you for what he'd done."

"What had he done?"

"He was the one― He was the first to meet with... Charlie," Harry said as he stared into his tea. "Stefan was the one who first convinced Charlie to listen to what the Brotherhood had to say. They'd met at Charlie's camp and Stefan knew just what to say to make Charlie agree."

Ginny felt a lump forming in her throat, and found that she couldn't say anything in response. Stefan, the man who'd died trying to save her, had been the reason why Charlie had been at the Ministry. How could someone be so cold and brave at the same time?

"I tried to stop him," Harry said quietly. "I tried to find some way to convince him not to ―to convince him that there was another way― but I couldn't get him to listen. He was just trying to keep his family safe."

"Just like Sabine?"

"It's a very effective motivation," he said softly.

"That's why you were in Romania, then? To protect Charlie?"

"Yes, in a way. I knew Charlie had been in danger for a long time," he explained. "It was only a matter of time before they came to him. I was in Romania because the Brotherhood was there. That is where it all started."

"Because of Tarus?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Harry nodded gravely. "Because of him."

"What did he do?"

Harry frowned and swirled his tea. "What did he tell you?"

"He said he tried to fix something, but he never really said what it was."

"Grigore Tarus is very wise, but he's not infallible," Harry explained. "He made a mistake."

"Yes, he told me that," Ginny said with a bit of impatience. "What was it? What is this all about?"

Harry rubbed his eyes again, and took a deep breath. "There are things I still can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Haven't you been listening?" Harry replied testily. "If they think you know too much, they won't risk letting you tell anyone else."

"Are they all completely daft?" Ginny burst out. "Won't they know that we escaped together? They knew we were both in that run down shop. They seem to think you actually care about me. Why wouldn't they think you were telling me everything?"

"Because they know that I'd be killing you if I told you everything," Harry explained with grim smile. "That's how it works. They know I won't tell you about them because they'll kill you if I do, and I know they won't kill you because I'd tell the world about them. That's the way it was for months. Everything was held in a delicate balance, but that started changing the moment you left Hogwarts."

"Are you trying to say this is my fault?"

"No," Harry replied cautiously. "Not like that. I didn't see it coming. As soon as you left Hogwarts, the Brotherhood saw their opportunity to get a permanent advantage. Didn't it ever seem odd just how easily you got that job with Ferdinand Harrington?"

"Well, yes, but―"

"And it wasn't strange when you were meeting with the French delegates only days after you started working there?"

Ginny frowned. "I just figured that was the reason they needed me so quickly."

"Somehow, they found out that you were having second guesses about joining the Aurors, and they created that job just for you. They sent wizards to speak with the Minister, they bribed officials and manipulated whole departments just to see that you got that job."

"Why? So I could meet with Henri D'Anneau?" Ginny asked. "That seems like a lot of work to go through to accomplish something that could have been done with a lot less planning."

"Perhaps, but of all the places I've been, I've spent most of my time here in London. I did everything I could to keep you out of the Ministry. I had a friend on the Bulgarian delegation pull some strings, I had the World Cup Committee make up silly rules, and I even had the goblins interfere. None of it mattered. They still got what they wanted. They went through all of that because I was fighting them the whole way. I wanted you to stay out of this."

Ginny sipped at her tepid tea and tried to think. Harrington had been right all along. Of course, he thought that it was Ginny who was manipulating everyone, but in the end, it didn't make much of a difference. She wasn't sure if she felt relieved or disappointed. It was all just part of the trap. "What about Tarus?" she asked. "Why is he part of this?"

"He must be trying to keep you safe," Harry said as he stared at the table. "If that is what he told you, then I believe that is indeed the reason. He was well liked by the wizards in Romania because of his honesty. He crafts his words well, but he doesn't lie."

"What about the war he spoke about, then?" Ginny asked. "He didn't seem to think it could be stopped."

"It can't," Harry remarked.

"Then what's the point in waiting? Why let them get any more prepared? We should tell Ron and Hermione right now. They could get the whole Order organized in a day."

"And in that day the Brotherhood might kill a hundred wizards or more just to stop them. They're not the ones who are unprepared, Ginny, we are. They've been waiting and planning this for months now. They knew it was coming. They're everywhere now. They want me to join them. That's the only way the war can be stopped, but Tarus was right. The war will come because I'll never do that, but if I let them believe it's possible, I might buy us some time to prepare.

"I _will_ explain everything to you," Harry said. "I'll tell Ron and Hermione, too, just not yet. There are some things I need to do before then."

Harry stood up as if taking a cue from his own statement. Ginny watched as he straightened his robes, checked his wand, and tightened the pair of buckles on each of his boots.

"You're going _now_?" Ginny exclaimed.

"There isn't any time to waste, Ginny. I'm really sorry, but I really do have to go."

"No! I just found you, I'm not letting you go!" she shouted.

"I know, Ginny," Harry replied sympathetically. "I don't want to leave, but I have to. You're safe now, but there are others who aren't. Believe me, if I had a choice, I'd stay right here, but I can't. Not until they're safe."

"I'll go with you!" she offered, but Harry just frowned.

"You're barely awake," he commented. "I'd guess your arm is still a little weak. You're dehydrated, hungry, and you don't know your way around the places I need to go."

"What places are those?"

"We'll both be better off if you don't know," Harry said as he refilled the bottle of water in his bag. When he was finished he stuffed it into the bag, walked back to the table and crouched down near Ginny.

"I need you to promise me that you won't talk to Ron or Hermione," he told her firmly. "Spend as little time around them as you can manage. It's very important. It might not be easy, but you have to do it. If the Brotherhood sees you talking with them, I don't know what they'll do. Can you promise me that?"

Ginny nodded weakly.

"Thank you," he said with a sigh of relief. "Don't tell anyone what happened in Romania. I assume you were there for some mission for the World Cup Committee. If they ask, you can tell them that you were attacked by some thugs and you only found a way out this morning. Don't go into the Ministry today. Stay here and get some rest. If there's any danger, I'll come back for you."

As Harry turned to leave, Ginny's arm shot out to grasp at his cloak. "But they'll know it's not true. What if someone says I'm lying?" she asked.

Harry turned and put his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "If they know it's a lie, it means they are helping the Brotherhood," he said. "They won't contradict your story, even if they know it's wrong. They would have to reveal themselves, and they're not going to do that. If there are Brotherhood wizards around you, you can be certain they'll do whatever it takes to see that everyone accepts the lie."

Without warning, Harry leaned forward and gave Ginny a brief kiss on the lips. An instant later, a ruffle of cold air brushed across her face as Harry turned and strode toward the front door.

"Good luck!" she called out, but the only response she got was the closing of the heavy door.

She sat at the table for some time, staring at her cold tea and hoping to hear some sound of Harry's return. The house was silent again, and if it weren't for the empty cup sitting across from her and the faint tingle on her lips, she could have almost believed that it had all been a horrible dream.

After a half hour, it was obvious that Harry would not return ―not immediately at least. Ginny tried to stand and realized just how tired she really was. She stumbled up the stairs and into the very first bedroom she could find. Without another thought, she collapsed onto the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

She awoke many hours later to find the first glowing rays of sunlight dancing across the London rooftops and casting soft shadows against the wall above her.

She slowly rolled out of bed and walked across the room to the window. Part of her expected to see a pack of wizards in grey robes waiting in the street, but it was nearly empty. Only a few stray Muggles were walking down the pavement. It looked almost normal. She was hit with a desire to stay at Number Twelve. Once she left, she knew the day would never be as simple and relaxing as it was now.

Still, she knew she could only put off her return so long. She walked down to the kitchen and opened the wardrobe. As quickly as she could, she took off her old robes and slipped into new ones. She couldn't help but glance nervously around the room after she was finished.

She didn't know what time it was. Her watch was probably still in Romania. It was probably still well before she normally went to the Ministry, but she decided it would be better if she were waiting there when Harrington and Reading showed up.

With a few waves of her wand, she started some tea for herself. A few more flicks and she had a small plate of toast waiting for her. She grabbed a slice and walked into the next room where there was a large bookcase. She needed a spellbook, preferably one which might teach her a few of the spells Harry had been using. After another piece of toast and some tea, she found something. It wasn't as thick as she was afraid it would be, so she tossed it into her bag, finished her tea and left the house.

The Muggles on the street ignored her as always and she made her way to the darkened alley. An instant later, she was surrounded by the gold-trimmed walls of the Entrance Hall at the Ministry.

There were many fewer wizards around than there normally were. She must have been even earlier than she thought. As her shoes clicked across the polished floor, a pair of wizards at the other end of the hall turned to look at her. They seemed to speak to each other for a moment, then one nodded and walked away, through the golden gate to the lifts. The other walked over to the desk where the guard was lazily paging through a book. He spoke to the guard for a moment, then stood and left the same way the other had.

Ginny tried not to feel paranoid, but after everything that had happened, she was almost certain they had been waiting for her to arrive. She'd hoped she might be able to walk to her cubicle without anyone taking much notice of her, but perhaps that was a foolish thing to hope for. Now she was wondering whether she'd even be able to make it to her office.

She continued walking and noticed the guard staring at her. He, however, wasn't nearly as disturbing as another wizard standing just to the left of the golden gates. He was wearing a grey cloak with a deep hood, just like the wizards that had tried to stop them in Romania and the wizards who she'd seen in the Spectrecorder.

Unlike either of those times, this time she was able to see the wizard's face. He looked somewhat older than Bill, though he had the refined look of a wealthy aristocrat. His eyes were dark and deep set, with a small amount of dark hair showing under his hood. His stare was filled with a malevolent curiosity that Ginny found unnerving.

As she approached the gate, she had expected the guard to stand and stop her or tell her she'd have to go with him, but instead he simply turned back to his book. Seconds before she was going to pass under the gate, the cloaked wizard took two quick steps toward her, partially blocking her path.

"Pardon me," he said in a silky voice. "I was wondering if you might be able to tell me the time."

Ginny looked back at the wizard and found an odd look in his eyes. They were oddly focused and yet impatient, like a caged animal biding its time and waiting for an opportunity to strike. "I'm afraid not," Ginny replied stiffly. "I left my watch at home."

The wizards eyes twitched down toward her hands. "Are you certain?" he asked.

"Yes, quite certain," Ginny replied. "Perhaps you could check with the _guard_."

She sidestepped him and walked through the gate to the lifts. She waited tensely, unsure if he would follow her or what she would do if he did. Finally an empty lift arrived, and she stepped into it. After the gates closed noisily, she slumped against one of the walls.

The wizard had obviously been a member of the Brotherhood. They must have known exactly what had happened in Romania. They probably already knew everything Harry was hoping to hide from them. It seemed foolish to think they wouldn't assume Harry had told her everything. Was that why they weren't hiding? Were they already making plans to kill her?

Ginny jumped as the doors to the lift clattered open. After taking a deep breath and a moment to calm her nerves, she stepped out of the lift, then stopped as the doors closed behind her. In the center of the small lobby stood a single Auror. He gave her an indifferent nod and motioned for her to move along. She walked past him cautiously and continued around the corner and down the corridor toward Carmilla's desk.

As she neared the last corner she began to feel that something wasn't quite right. She paused and looked behind her. The Auror was standing at the other end of the corridor now. He was following her, guarding her only exit. She turned and continued walking. Carmilla would tell her what was going on. She always seemed to know when something was happening. When she finally rounded the last corner, Ginny froze at the sight before her.

Carmilla was sitting at her desk as always, but instead of her customary smile, she was giving Ginny a worried look. Standing next to her was Mrs. Reading, with Mr. Harrington slightly in front of her and looking more annoyed than Ginny had seen him since she'd been hired. On the other side of her was a grizzled, stern-looking Auror, no doubt the partner of the one following her.

That was the part she might have expected. What she had not expected was to see her brother Percy sitting in a somewhat wobbly chair, which Ginny didn't remember ever seeing there. He was trying to look uninterested in her, and had chosen to watch another wizard standing off to Ginny's right.

When Ginny finally turned to look at the wizard, she felt her stomach leap. He was standing with the sort of crisp, alert posture of a guard and wearing a long, straight cloak of deep purple with a golden sash looped around each of his shoulders, and another hanging across the front of his cloak. Ginny recognized it almost immediately. It was very similar to the uniforms worn by the Romanian Ministry guards.

As she stared at the wizard, he stared back, and Ginny realized that she recognized him. His eyes closed slowly and his head twitched imperceptibly forward in a gesture of respect and recognition. It was the same guard who had led her down the alley the first time she had spoken with Grigore Tarus. On either side of him stood another pair of Aurors.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked warily.

Harrington frowned and spoke up, "Yesterday afternoon, we got a message from the Site Selection Committee saying they had not heard from you since they had sent you to Romania the day before. The Romanian Minister refused to speak to us about it, but through... other sources, we heard news that there had been some sort of incident the morning you failed to show up. I was hoping you might be willing to explain just what happened."

The Romanian guard took a step forward. "Pardon me, but―"

"Hold on," Harrington interrupted him. "I think I know why you're here, and I know the rules just as well as you do. She works for me, and my concerns still come before yours." He turned back to Ginny and stared intently at her. "Miss Weasley, would you like to come to my office so we can speak privately about what happened over the last two days? It will just be you and I."

"I cannot let you do that, Harrington," Percy said. "The Minister―"

"Keep quiet, Weasley," Harrington commanded. "This is neither your business nor the Minister's. I tolerate your presence here out of respect for the Minister, not because I am required to." He turned back to Ginny. "If there are matters you wish to discuss in private, simply ask. Perhaps we could start with the reason your wrists are bruised."

Ginny instinctively looked down at her wrist. Just beyond the sleeve of her robes there was a nasty purple mark stretching across her wrist and up the side of her hand. How could she have missed them before? Now that she was staring at them, everyone in the lobby could see them as well.

"Shall we go to my office?" Harrington asked.

Ginny felt her heart hammering inside her chest. Harry had just said she should lie to them. That was easy enough to say, but he couldn't have thought that this is how they would ask her. There were four Aurors watching them, and one of the guards Harry had told her not to trust. This wasn't at all what she was expecting. She was unprepared and things were moving faster than she could handle. She didn't want to tell anyone anything.

"I― I don't know," she stammered. "I think I want to know what's going on, first."

Harrington and the Romanian Guard shared a look, and Harrington stepped around the desk and walked toward Ginny. "Within minutes of asking the Romanian Minister of your whereabouts, this wizard arrived," Harrington said, motioning toward the guard. "He claims to be the captain of the Minister's personal guard carrying an official message for you. The two Aurors with him are here because he refused to leave until he delivered his message. He stood here all through the night."

"What about him?" Ginny asked, nodding toward Percy.

Percy sat up in his chair. "I'm here on behalf of the Minister of Magic. He sent me to―"

"The Minister sent him here to eavesdrop," Harrington said, cutting Percy off. "Apparently Scrimgeour doesn't trust me to tell him everything that might happen this morning."

"He sent me to find out if Miss Weasley had any part in that attack," Percy blurted out. "A British wizard nearly lost his leg in all the flying hexes and explosions." He stood up and took a few steps toward her. "First Giza, now this? Something strange is happening, and―"

"Percy, stop!" Harrington shouted.

"I am here under the authority of the Minister!" Percy shouted back. "Something happened in Romania and he wants to know what it is!"

"That's enough!" roared Harrington.

The guard strode forward, reaching into his cloak. "I'm afraid I must insist that I be allowed to deliver my message now, Mr. Harrington," he announced.

Harrington threw a disgusted look at Percy. "Yes," he said through clenched teeth, "I expected you would."

The guard walked to Ginny, and held out a roll of parchment bound with three gold ribbons. "I have come as an official courier of Grigore Tarus, the Romanian counterpart to your Minister of Magic, under the protection of the Official Communication Agreement of 1807. I have a message for you from Mr. Tarus himself."

Ginny slowly reached for the parchment and gently took it from the guard. Once she had the roll in her hand, he turned and returned to his place between the two Aurors. There was a moment of tense silence as everyone stared at her, waiting for her to open the message. She took a deep breath, then slipped the ribbons off the parchment, unrolled it and began reading.

To: Ginevra Weasley, Department of International Magical Cooperation

This message has been sent under the protection of the Official Communication Agreement of 1807. Under that accord, you may not be interrogated about the contents of this message until you have read the message in entirety or shown no intent to continue reading. Because of that, I implore you to read through this carefully before speaking to anyone else.

I have no doubt that many wizards in your Ministry will be seeking answers and explanations for the events which occurred here this morning. I urge you to exercise prudence in speaking to them. My courier has been instructed to deliver this before you are forced to answer any such questions. I understand any concerns you may have toward my personal guard. You need have no worries about Josef. I trust him above all other guards under my employ.

Ginny re-read the last sentence. Harry was right. He did know many of his guards are working for the Brotherhood, and he still sent this one. It was the closest Ginny would get to a guarantee.

It is very important that you not reveal what happened here. You are safe so long as you are not a liability to the Brotherhood. I am certain that they are even more eager than you are to see that no one else knows just what happened.

"Well?" Percy nearly shouted. "What does it say?"

"I told you to keep quiet," Harrington snapped. "Whatever it says is for her alone. If she told you what it said, I'd fire her instantly for being so completely daft."

Ginny ignored them and kept reading.

For my own part, I do not know the full story of the events after you left me in my study and I do not wish for you to tell me. Other wizards may not share my concern for your safety in this matter. Unless I have greatly misjudged your Ministry, you will find many people who will be quite insistent that you tell them what has happened. Were you still in Romania, there is much I could do to protect you from such inquiries. I am grateful for your safe escape, but I am afraid it has reduced me to very desperate measures in order to ensure your safety.

I am prepared to name you as an official liaison to Romania. It is an old practice, but I am certain that Ferdinand Harrington will recognize the signs. As a liaison, you will work for both me and Mr. Harrington. This will afford you official protection against interrogation regarding any matters involving Romania. Assuming you escaped directly to Britain, this should be sufficient to keep you safe.

I will not lie to you. There is some risk in this course of action, but I believe it to be less than the risk involved in sharing your secret. I can only protect you from interrogation, not from the anger and mistrust of the wizards you work with. It is not a perfect solution, but it is the only solution I can offer at the moment. Perhaps you will think of better alternatives. Use them if you can, but strike no deals or compromises for even a word of information. It will be as great a danger to them as it will be to you.

If you find yourself in the situation which I fear you may already be in, simply announce your desire to accept the position as Liaison to Romania. Josef will see that the rest is done.

I wish you good luck.

Grigore Tarus

Ginny stared at the message for a moment. He'd said the same thing Harry had told her, but he seemed to have foreseen the Ministry's reaction would be slightly more serious than Harry had implied. He'd made it sound much more dire than Harry had. She looked up and saw everyone staring at her. She'd tried to hide her reaction, but it appeared that she'd failed. The Aurors were looking at the parchment with suspicion, Mrs. Reading looked worried, and Carmilla was fidgeting with a quill. Harrington, however, was staring at the floor as if he were trying to work out the answer to some puzzling question.

"Is it what I think it is?" he asked with an empty voice.

Ginny didn't know how to answer, or if she should answer at all. Was Tarus right? Was it to late to try and lie her way out of it? Should she just ask Josef now? She opened her mouth to speak, but paused. He said she should try to avoid doing it. She slowly rolled the parchment. "I have no idea what you think it is," Ginny relied.

Harrington looked into her eyes. "He's offered to protect you, hasn't he? Something important has happened. That's why he sent a courier instead of an owl, and why the Minister has sent a lackey to listen in." Harrington let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his eyes. "He's offered you a... a position, hasn't he?"

Ginny felt like she was some caged animal on display. They were all staring at her now, waiting for some response. The only kind face in the area was Josef, who had a curious expression on his face. Ginny didn't want to speak, but she felt she had to answer, so she looked down and gave Harrington a faint nod.

"What does that matter?" Percy asked. "The Minister of Magic sent me here to find out what's happened, and I'm not leaving until she explains where she's been the last two days."

"Shut up, Percy," Harrington snapped. "The Minister sent you because he knew you would follow his orders without _thinking_. If he really wanted to find out what was going on, he'd have come to me." He stepped forward, putting himself between Percy and Ginny.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you, Ginny. What he's offered to do, it _will_ work. Do you really want it to? There's a reason he's done this. Something is happening. If you hide behind that parchment, we might not figure it out until it's too late."

"We can protect you, too, Ginny," Mrs. Reading told her. "We can keep it private. No one else will need to know. If you agree to this, it will make things more complicated. Please think about it."

"You don't need to decide right away," Harrington said. "There is still time. There are many things we might try, but if you choose to accept his offer now, there will be little I can do. Will you join me in my office? Cordelia and Tarus's courier can come as well. I won't ask any questions. I only want to discuss your options."

Another tense silence descended upon the area. Ginny clutched at the roll of parchment. Why hadn't Harry told her this might happen? She wished she could have asked him what to do, but that was impossible. She didn't even know where he was. It was clear enough that Harrington wasn't working with the Brotherhood, but that wasn't much of a comfort. She was certain he'd demand to know what had happened in Romania, and both Harry and Tarus had been adamant that she not tell anyone. Would they still help her if she refused to talk to them? Was it dangerous to even try?

The silence was oppressive. The only sound came from a ticking clock, and it seemed to echo in the enclosed space, getting louder and louder each second. What should she do? If she agreed to talk to Harrington, would he still allow her to accept Tarus's offer if things started to go poorly? In her head, the ticking kept getting louder, as if her mind was trying to remind her that everyone was waiting for an answer. When she thought she couldn't take it any longer, the ticking stopped abruptly, ending in a strange scuffling sound, waking Ginny from her thoughts.

Harrington's voice cut through the new silence. "Excuse me, Miss Granger. While I know it may not appear so, I am afraid this is an official meeting and terribly serious. Miss Weasley is safe and in good health. You may speak with her later."

"I understand, Mr. Harrington," Hermione said in a wavering voice, "but I was sent to fetch her. I'm supposed to take her to the Department of Mysteries immediately."

"On whose authority?" he demanded.

"Auguste Reynard," she answered hesitantly. "He thought it would be reassuring if I was the one to escort her."

Harrington's eyes narrowed. "Reynard? Go back and tell him that if he wants to interrogate a member of my department, he'll need an order signed by the Minister of Magic."

Hermione cringed and pulled a roll of parchment from her pocket "He's already got one. I just came from the Minister's office."

Harrington sat heavily on Carmilla's desk and buried his face in his hands. "She has to go right now?" he asked. "I can let you have her in an hour. I haven't even had a chance to speak with her myself."

Hermione looked truly apologetic. "I― I can't, sir. I with I could, but he was rather specific. She's to come with me immediately. The Minister agreed."

"Well, Miss Weasley," Harrington said in a tired voice, "you're in quite a pinch now. There's nothing I can do to help you. You're going to have to betray someone. It's time to make your choice. Who will it be? Grigore Tarus or your own Ministry?"

"I talked to Mr. Reynard, Ginny," Hermione said in a reassuring voice. "He just wants some answers. You're in no danger."

Ginny, however knew that wasn't true. She was in danger. The Ministry couldn't protect her. They didn't know that a member of the Brotherhood was standing in the Entrance Hall. Harry had even said that there were Brotherhood members working for the Ministry. There wasn't an option. Tarus must have known this would happen. Ginny looked over at the guard, Josef. In his eyes, she saw a look of warning. She'd trusted him once before, and it had turned out alright.

"If I agree," Ginny spoke in a low voice, "will Reynard have to respect it?"

Josef nodded. "He would not dare defy an agreement as old as this."

Ginny turned to Mrs. Reading next. "I'll stay here and keep my job?" she asked. "I won't be punished?"

"No, you won't be punished," Mrs. Reading answered. "Being named as an official liaison is a great honor. There will be many obligations for you to fulfill, but they will simply become part of your job."

"What sort of obligations?" Ginny asked quickly.

"If you agree, you will work for both Mr. Tarus and me. Long ago, there was a great meeting of wizards. They agreed that this relationship would be respected. It will be up to you to perform your duties, but no one here will stand in your way."

"Whatever this is, Ginny, you don't have to do it," Hermione reassured her. "I swear, he only wants to ask you some questions. It's nothing more."

"I know, Hermione," Ginny said. She turned to face Josef. "I wish to accept the position as Liaison to Romania. How quickly can we do it?"

His arm darted into his cloak and retrieved a roll of parchment and a quill. An instant later the parchment was rolled out and he was offering her the quill. "As quickly as you can sign your name, Miss Weasley."

Ginny strode forward, and took the quill in her hand. She paused momentarily as the tip of the quill touched the parchment. It was filled with small, flowing script. She'd never be able to read it all. _It's the only way,_ she told herself. _If you tell anyone they'll kill you._ Before she even realized what she was doing, she heard the harsh scratching of the quill against the parchment. It was done. Josef took the parchment and the quill and slipped them back into his pocket.

"Congratulations, Miss Weasley," he said as he reached out to shake her hand. Ginny took his hand, but it didn't make her feel any more safe. She hoped she hadn't made a mistake.

Harrington shook his head. "Very well. I believe that's settled then. Percy, I believe you're finished here."

"What?" he replied confusedly. "I'm here on behalf of the Minister of Magic. He wants answers and he's going to get them. You can't just tell him to shove off."

"No, I can't," Harrington replied, "but Ginny can. As an Official Liaison, she cannot be forced to reveal information pertaining to the country she is serving. As I am guessing that she has spent the most interesting parts of the last two days in Romania, she is perfectly within her rights to tell us all to shove off."

"The Minister will hear of this!" Percy hissed.

"I'm sure he will, but not from you," Harrington said as Percy stalked off. He turned to Carmilla. "Is there anything you can do to give us some time to prepare her?"

"Yes, of course," Carmilla replied with a smile. She scribbled a quick note on a piece of parchment and tapped it with her wand. It proceeded to fold itself into a birdlike shape and flap away down the corridor. "It looks as if Percy will be spending the day going over banking regulations with the goblins at Gringott's," she said with a smile.

Harrington smiled as well, and turned his attention to Hermione. "I'm afraid that despite his own opinions, Auguste Reynard is still no more important than the Minister, and as such, there is no chance that he will be interrogating Miss Weasley. I'm afraid you will have to return alone, Miss Granger, but do send my deepest apologies." For a moment, Ginny thought she saw a hint of a smile on Harrington's face.

Hermione, however, was not amused. She stared back at him stonily. "I... I was sent to bring her to the Department of Mysteries. I was _ordered_ to bring her there, whether she was willing to talk or not. You don't― I... She _must_ come with me."

"If Reynard wishes to speak with Miss Weasley, he will need to make an appointment," Harrington said. "Even then, I fear it couldn't be until... when, Carmilla?"

Carmilla jumped in her chair and leaned forward to page through a large book on her desk. "Let's see... All of this is going to change..." she mumbled. "She'll need an office... something quiet... and some security charms..." She pulled out a quill and began scribbling in the pages of the book. "The way it looks right now, the earliest he could see her would be Monday afternoon."

"Very good," Harrington said with a slight smile. "There you are, Miss Granger. Let him know he will have to wait until Monday afternoon, and don't worry about his temper. If he does anything rash, I'm certain Miss Weasley will speak to the Minister about it."

"But..." Hermione stammered. "That's going to take some time, isn't it? Can't she just come with me and tell him herself?"

"Oh, it will take time," Harrington replied, "though I do not know if she will be available. She serves two Ministries now. Will you be needing Miss Weasley for anything this morning?" He turned and looked at the Romanian guard.

Josef smiled and nodded stiffly. "Yes, there was another task I had been assigned, but that was only out of convenience. It would be more proper for this matter to be taken up by Miss Weasley," he announced, then turned to Hermione. "It is rather urgent, and it may take some time."

"How terribly shocking," Harrington replied sarcastically. "I am afraid that is your cue to leave, Miss Granger. Miss Weasley has private business to attend to. Tell Reynard that he can direct any questions to Carmilla and any complaints to me." He turned toward Josef and gestured down the corridor toward the rest of the offices. "If you will follow me, sir, I'll find you an office where you might speak with Miss Weasley. Mrs. Reading and I will be needing ours, but there are others available. Come along, Miss Weasley."

Ginny gave Hermione an apologetic look, then turned and followed after Harrington and Josef. They walked past Ginny's cubicle and most of the offices, heading toward the back corridor of unused rooms. As they reached the end of the corridor, they stopped, catching Ginny by surprise. She thought they were going to turn toward the row of empty offices, instead Harrington was knocking on the door of the last occupied office. She couldn't see the door from behind Josef and Harrington, but she could hear it open.

"Good morning, Miss Sibley," Harrington said formally.

The reply came in a sour voice: "Good morning, Ferdinand."

"I have a favor to ask of you, Miss Sibley," Harrington said with thinly veiled frustration. "This wizard is on an official visit and I would appreciate it if you would allow us to use your office to conduct some rather sensitive business. Unless I am mistaken, you have put extra privacy charms in place, haven't you?"

"Yes," Evelyn replied defensively. "They're all perfectly legal. I checked the regulations."

"I know that, and that's why I chose your office. We have a guest from Romania who is in need of something more than the standard security."

"Romania? Does this have anything to do with that little Weasley slut?"

Ginny said nothing, and focused on keeping her temper. Now was not the time to lose control. Instead, she quietly stepped out of sight.

"If you mean Ginevra Weasley, then the answer is yes, it does," Josef answered evenly.

"What's she done this time?" Evelyn asked. "Tossed herself at delegates? Slept with the officials? Is it something really serious? Is that why she's gone? I mean, it would be tragic for the department ―simply horrible― but the shame and embarrassment would pass. Better that it happen now while she's only been here for a month, than after a few years when she's had a chance to get her claws into every lonely wizard in the Ministry."

Harrington attempted to stop her, "―Evelyn―"

"―I know I shouldn't say anything until she's gone," she said without hiding her enthusiasm, "but I knew from the moment I saw her that she was trouble. I could never understand how someone from such a poor family could act so spoiled. She's never deserved the things she got." Evelyn paused and her voice took on a more curious tone. "Is she dead?"

"No, thankfully not," Harrington answered. "I think you've said quite enough for now. Let's go. I could use your help in setting up a new office."

"What are talking about?" Evelyn asked. "Aren't you here to talk with him?"

"No, he needs to speak with the new Romanian liaison."

"Liaison? I didn't know we had an old one," Evelyn commented. "That tramp must have really done it. Are they here now?"

Ginny barely recognized Evelyn as she leaned into the corridor. She was smiling, though she managed to make being happy look painful. Her eyes were reduced to two narrow slits and her lips looked thin and stretched, as though they were being called to do something they had never done before. The moment Evelyn's eyes found Ginny, her expression shriveled like a delicate flower in the autumn frost. Instead of her customary brooding scowl, her face was twisted in a seething rage. Ginny watched with mild amusement as the muscles in her jaw twitched.

"Not her," Evelyn growled. "She can't come in."

"I only asked out of courtesy, Miss Sibley," Harrington replied. "They _will_ be using your office. It is the only suitable place. I cannot trust any other departments today."

"She's a liar, _Ferdinand_," she spat. "She can't even comprehend her own stupidity. She's been here for a month. I've been here for _two years_. If you think my father's going to stand for that, you'd have to be―"

"―the Head of the Department?" Harrington offered. "I agreed to give you a job. I never promised promotions and honors. I can't waste any more time, Evelyn. I have things to do, and you're going to help me. Since you're so great with security charms, you can help me set up an office for Miss Weasley."

Evelyn flashed a murderous glare at Ginny, then peeled her hand from the door frame, leaving a set of small indents where her nails had pressed into the oak trim. With a huff, she walked down the smaller corridor toward the unused offices.

Harrington motioned for Ginny and Josef to enter the office. "Will this be sufficient?" he asked. Josef nodded formally. "Alright then. Miss Weasley, when you're done, see Mrs. Reading. I'm sure you'll have some questions for her. If our guest needs anything else, she'll see to it." With a nod, he left the office, pulling the door shut behind him.

Now that she was alone with Josef, Ginny began feeling rather uncomfortable. He was not old, but she was still quite young. All of this new responsibility was making her feel like a child in a world of adults. She sat down and tried to remain calm. She wanted to run. Why was this happening to her? When Josef didn't say anything, she reluctantly raised her head to look at him.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.

"N-No..." Ginny answered, though it wasn't really the truth.

"There are many things in this world to fear," he said calmly. "Dark wizards and monsters do exist. You have faced both already. There is nothing you have to fear from me."

"It's not that, it's..."

"Fear is not an emotion that one should be ashamed of. Many who claim to be brave profess that they have conquered their fear. To conquer fear is to let go of that which presses us to achieve great things. In my country, we teach our children of the Telahmet, an ancient incarnation of evil meant to frighten them into showing respect or doing their duties. Many children forget this fear as they grow older. Even more actively fight it, waging mock battles against a faceless foe they know nothing of.

"It is not the Telahmet they are fighting, but their own fear. They seek to destroy it, and in that quest they weaken themselves. Evil is not destroyed by forgetting it exists, and when the Telahmet returns for them, they will not recognize it for what it is until it is too late."

"I don't understand," Ginny said. "What does that have to do with me?"

"You are afraid, but you don't know what it is you are afraid of," Josef said with a smile. "Your fear is warranted. Troubling times are coming, and the world is going to need new wizards to lead it. You have the foresight and experience to see what others cannot. You are special. You will be a leader. It is time for you to take your place in the wizarding world."

"What am I supposed to do?" Ginny asked.

"Open your eyes," Josef said with a smile. "I understand the uniform can be intimidating, but I am only a guard. You, however, work directly for Grigore Tarus. Will you control your own life, or will you let others tell you what to do?"

Ginny stared at him for a moment while she tried to figure out what that meant. "Tell me this other job you came here to accomplish."

Josef grinned and reached into his pocket. He pulled out another wrapped roll of parchment, and handed it to her. "You will need to talk to your Minister. Tarus is asking ―on behalf of the Quidditch World Cup Committee― that Britain volunteer thirty Aurors for the World Cup Tournament."

"Thirty?" Ginny replied as she took the roll. "There's no way they can do that. It's not like they're getting loads of new Aurors to replace all the ones who've quit, or worse. With the Death Eaters still running about and the Brotherhood sneaking around, they're not going to have thirty to spare."

"That is exactly what we hoped," Josef said seriously. "Tarus wanted to ask for forty, but I convinced him to select a less... frightening number."

"They aren't for the Tournament at all, are they?" Ginny asked. "They're for the war."

"Yes, but Scrimgeour cannot know about that. Not now. Not yet," he said firmly. "We cannot trust the Aurors to make the right decision. In time, their decision will be an easier one to make. For now, it's more important that your Ministry find a reason to recruit more of them. We will need all the help we can get."

"Is that all I'll have to do?"

"I hope so," Josef said. "For your safety, we will need to make certain that your Ministry doesn't see this as a hollow attempt to keep information from them. There will be other requests, but it will be best if you do not draw too much attention. For now, however, we are done."

When Ginny left the office, she saw a very disgruntled Evelyn glaring at her down the corridor. Ginny ignored her and turned to walk back toward Mrs. Reading's office. Once they'd reached the first of the small cubicles, Josef let out a soft chuckle.

"She's an enchanting creature," he whispered. "Perhaps she could be the next to visit my country." Ginny laughed softly to herself.

When they reached Mrs. Reading's office, they found her door open and her sitting expectantly at her desk. "Done so soon?" she asked lightly.

"My business here is done," Josef answered. "I thank you for your cooperation in this matter. I will be certain to tell Mr. Tarus of the courtesy you have shown both me and Miss Weasley. He will be very thankful."

"If you will wait a moment, I will have someone see you to the Entrance Hall," Mrs. Reading offered, but Josef was already shaking his head.

"I do not require such ceremony, I assure you. I will see myself out." He gave both witches deep bows. "Until we meet again, Miss Weasley," he said as backed out of Mrs. Reading's office and walked away.

When he was out of sight, Mrs. Reading waved her wand at the door, pulling it shut. "How are you doing, so far?" she asked. "I assume he gave you some task to do."

"He did," Ginny answered, "but I don't think I'm supposed to tell you about it."

"Of course," Mrs. Reading answered. "This will be a little awkward. It has been some time since a Ministry employee was used this way. Harrington will have your office ready shortly. You will have privacy there. It is expected that you will keep all news from Romania a secret from this Ministry, and all news from this Ministry a secret from the Romanian one. It is not an easy thing to do, but I will help you as much as I can. If you will tell me what you need, I will see that you get it."

"I need to meet with the Minister."

"Alright, you can see Carmilla about that. She is responsible for handling appointments and schedules."

"And about my office," Ginny said more hesitantly, "I think Evelyn is helping Harrington, and I'm not trying to say that she's not a talented witch, but I don't know if I trust her with―"

"Kingsley Shacklebolt is coming by later," Mrs. Reading said. "He will be checking over all the work." She paused and looked at her desk. "And then he'll search the room for any hexes or traps Evelyn might have put in."

Ginny turned to leave, but stopped at the door to look back at Mrs. Reading. "Have I made another mistake?" she asked. "There have been so many decisions I've had to make. I try to make the right ones, but it's getting harder."

Mrs. Reading smiled. "I have no idea what happened to you in Romania, but I trust you, Ginny. It's obvious to me that both you and Tarus have some reason for keeping this a secret. This was the only way of keeping that secret. Nothing Harrington or I could have done would have been able to stop Reynard or the Minister. You did the only thing you could."

Feeling overwhelmed and rather uncertain of herself, Ginny walked out to Carmilla's desk. She stopped and waited for the older witch to acknowledge her, but after almost a minute, she hadn't taken her face out of a large book.

"Excuse me, Carmilla," she called out gently.

"Yes, dear?" she responded without looking up from the book.

"I need to set up an appointment with the Minister and Mrs. Reading said that I should―"

"You're scheduled for three o' clock today," Carmilla replied mechanically. "I could have made it earlier, but I didn't know how long you'd need to speak with that guard. I suppose it'll work out. You'll probably want the time to think about what you've got to say." She looked up and smiled at Ginny. "It can be a little intimidating the first time you go in to meet him. Good luck, though."

Even after hours of preparation, Ginny's stomach was still twisted into a tight knot. She paced in front of the heavy door, alternating between staring at the clock and the golden plaque reading "Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic." It was nearly three o' clock and the other witches and wizards in the area were beginning to give her suspicious glances. With two more minutes to wait, Ginny gave up and knocked on the door.

A voice from inside the room called out, "Come in!"

Ginny carefully turned the doorknob and pushed the door. It swung in smoothly and silently, revealing the Minister sitting behind a wide, polished desk and writing on a large scroll of parchment. A pair of golden lamps bathed the room in light. As the door closed with a soft _click_, Scrimgeour finally looked up.

"Ah, it's you," he said with slight frown. "I'm glad that you've come to your senses and I'm honored that you have chosen to come and speak with me about this whole business, but I'm afraid that now is a bad time."

"Er... it is?"

"There are procedures and rules to follow around here," he said with a little condescension. "I'd be more than willing to break them any other time, but I need to speak with this new Liaison to Romania. I wish you could have come here earlier. I'm sure it would help me understand whatever it is he's coming here to speak about. As it is, he should be arriving any minute, so you'll have to leave for now. Perhaps you could return in an hour?"

Ginny stood and took a deep breath. "Sir, _I'm_ the Liaison to Romania."

"You're what?" Scrimgeour replied in shock. "How could― But you're too― What are you playing at?"

"Nothing at all, sir."

He leaned over his desk and narrowed his eyes at her. "Then tell me what this is all about. You left for Romania two days ago to inspect this pitch Tarus claims he has. The next morning, Tarus says you never showed up and there are reports of fighting in the streets. When you suddenly turn up, you're hiding behind the Romanian Ministry. Now, something odd is happening and I insist you tell me what it is."

Ginny looked down at the floor, afraid to see his reaction. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you about that, sir. I learned all that in Romania, and I'm not supposed to tell anyone about it."

"Of course," Scrimgeour said with a nod. "Harrington warned me about that. He forgot to mention that we were talking about you. He also failed to tell me that he'd requested your brother be sent off to spend the day with the goblins so I didn't hear anything he heard. So why exactly are you here? Did you just show up to introduce yourself, or did you want to gloat?"

"I have a message from Grigore Tarus," Ginny said formally. Then, like Josef had, she pulled the roll of parchment from her pocket and handed it to him. He glared at it for a moment, the pulled the bindings off it, unrolled it and started to read it.

"Thirty!" he barked. "Is he mad? What does he want thirty Aurors for?"

"For security during the Quidditch World Cup Tournament," Ginny answered.

"I can read, girl," Scrimgeour replied acidly. "Why in Merlin's name would he think I have _thirty Aurors_ to spare for a load of matches that aren't even being played in Britain? Does he think they're all just sitting around playing chess? It's only been a year since Voldemort's defeat. I've got the Death Eaters and these bloody vigilantes to deal with, and he sends some girl to me with absurd demands like these?"

"I imagine all of the Ministries will be getting requests like this," Ginny said, hoping she was correct. "No matter where they're held, there will be quite a few British wizards at the matches. With everything that's been going on―"

"Don't tell me how to do my job!" he snapped. He sat back in his chair and let out a frustrated growl. "You and I both know this needs to be done, and I won't have you explain it to me like a child. What am I supposed to do? Pull Aurors from Hogwarts? The term has just begun! I might be able to transfer eight of them, but that's only a quarter of what he's asking."

"I don't think they need them right now," Ginny tried to reassure him. "I think it's more important that you simply start preparing."

"Prepare for what?" he replied disgustedly. "If every major country in the Tournament volunteered thirty wizards, we'd have hundreds of them. They'd fill their own tower at the pitch. It'd take an army of dark wizards to need that much security."

"I think that's the point," Ginny replied.

It had been a long day, following an excruciatingly long week. How could so much happen in just a few days? How could so much have changed in just a month? She'd moved the few things she'd kept in her small cubicle to her new office in the corridor past Evelyn's office. It wasn't large, but it was clean and it was safe. She had her own small library of books left over from the previous occupant, and a fireplace which could be connected to the Floo network in an emergency. Kingsley Shacklebolt had even been kind enough to remove the Withering Hex placed on her chair and some sort of cursed quill from her desk.

The window was showing a fine view of a beautiful summer day, but it wasn't enough to make Ginny want to stay. She'd had enough. She needed a nice, quiet weekend to relax. She'd have to find some way to tell her parents that she wanted to move into Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and she wouldn't be able to get any help from Ron or Hermione.

After walking out of the office, she closed the door and tapped the doorknob with her wand, making it vanish completely. She walked down the corridor, ignoring the scowl on Evelyn's face as she passed her office, and passing Mrs. Reading's office where she could hear a muffled argument. She ignored that as well. She had plenty of other things to worry about at the moment. After saying goodnight to Carmilla, she headed toward the lifts.

When she reached the small lobby next to the Entrance Hall, she joined the crowd of wizards heading through the gate. The moment she passed through it, she felt a chill run down her spine. Standing in front of the large fountain in the center of the hall was a tall wizard in a long, grey cloak. He had a hood, but Ginny could still clearly see him staring at her. The other wizards seemed to notice him as well, but none of them paid attention any longer than it took them to Disapparate or queue for one of the fireplaces.

With grim determination, Ginny walked straight toward him, stopping just out of the reach of his arms. "What are you doing here?" she hissed. "You're not the only one following me, you know? They might start figuring things out if they keep seeing you around me."

To her surprise, he spoke. "I do not know what you are speaking about. I am waiting for a friend," he said with a slight Romanian accent.

"Quit following me," she said as threateningly as she could. "If you're going to kill me, then quit playing these games."

"If you feel threatened," he said slowly, "perhaps you might report it to the Aurors. It is said they deal with such things."

"_Stop this,_" she growled. "No one knows about you. Not yet. It won't last long if you keep this up. They won't know because of me. I haven't told anyone anything. I kept your secrets."

"Ginny?"

Ginny spun around violently, and found Hermione staring at her strangely. A new wave of fear hit her. Harry had told her to keep away from Hermione, yet here they were with a Brotherhood wizard watching them.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked with a look of dismay. "Why are you keeping secrets?"

Ginny gave a warning glance at the wizard and he returned a look of complete indifference. "I can't talk to you about it, Hermione," she said as she slipped past the wizard. As she walked away, she turned to see that he was making no move to follow her. He wasn't. He hadn't even turned to watch her.

"You can't talk to _me_ about it, but you can talk to _him_?" Hermione said as she jogged to catch up to Ginny. "I'm not daft, Ginny. I recognize those cloaks. Why are you talking with them? You know what they did."

Ginny stopped and whirled upon Hermione. "I said, _I can't talk about it._" Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, Ginny closed her eyes, and felt the familiar cold, crushing sensation as she suddenly Disapparated.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Sorry for the delay. A number of things kept me from moving forward for a bit, and I'm afraid I left everyone wondering what was going to happen next. The only good news is that I'm already a third of the way through the next chapter and it shouldn't see the same sort of delay this one did. 

For those of you upset by the lack of Harry, you can relax knowing that he will be back and he will actually play an important part in the next chapters. On a more immediate note, the next chapter will include a bit of fun, a bit of Ron, and a kiss (or two) for Ginny.


	13. A Mistaken Identity

Chapter 13

A Mistaken Identity

Ginny straightened out her robes and adjusted the bag on her shoulders. The last thing she needed today was Hermione interrogating her in the middle of the Ministry. After a deep breath to help her relax, she walked toward the doorway.

"Ginny, stop!" a voice called out from behind her.

Ginny groaned and kept walking. "Excellent. You've been following me too, have you?"

"I don't need to. Everyone knows you come here almost every night to read the _Prophet_ and talk with that crazy old wizard."

"He's not crazy!" Ginny replied defensively. "He's just... had a lot of life experience," she finished lamely. "And he doesn't pester me for things I can't tell him."

"That's because he's barely aware of anything beyond that bottle of his," Hermione shot back. "I know something is going on, Ginny. I know something happened in Romania. You ran from something, and now you're keeping it a secret."

"You're not listening very well, are you?" she shouted over her shoulder. "I told you I can't talk about it." Ginny pulled her wand out, but Hermione leapt for her and caught her arm before she could tap the wall.

"Why not?" Hermione asked in a lower voice.

"Because it's confidential information related to Romania," Ginny replied mechanically. She was certain it was not going to be the last time she'd be forced to say that.

"Confidential?" Hermione said with quiet anger. "Oh, I see. It's _confidential_," she whispered sarcastically. "And everything that I've told you is just a day away from being in the _Daily Prophet_."

Ginny wrenched her arm away from Hermione and reached for the wall. The tip of her wand tapped the stones lightly and they began to slowly rearrange themselves to form an arched doorway. "I know you weren't supposed to tell me any of that, but this is different. You have to trust me, you'll be safer if you don't know."

"Is this supposed to be some kind of bloody joke?" Hermione shouted as Ginny stepped through the doorway. "Come back here, Ginny. We need to talk."

Ginny kept walking. "I'm not stopping you from talking," Ginny said as she walked toward the bar.

Hermione leaped forward and tugged on Ginny's robes. "You know we can't talk here," she hissed.

"There's nothing we could talk about that we can't talk about here," Ginny replied with a forced calmness. She turned her back on Hermione and walked to the bar, where Tom was already fetching her copy of the _Prophet_.

"Evening, Ginny," he said with a smile. "Welcome back to England. How was your trip?"

"Oh, it was surprisingly enjoyable," she replied sweetly. "I met such wonderful people there."

Tom grunted and pushed the _Daily Prophet_ across the bar. "Must be nice. I was stuck with this lot all weekend. Maybe I'm just tired of the rest of them, but it sure feels quiet around here when you're gone."

"Thanks, Tom," Ginny said, ignoring Hermione behind her. She walked over to where Albert was quietly sitting and staring into a half-empty glass. She took a seat next to him, and glared at Hermione. "I'm sorry. Did you want to talk with me about something? It wasn't Azkaban, was it? I heard it's really unpleasant there."

"It wasn't Azkaban," Hermione replied angrily. "This is serious, Ginny."

"You're sure it wasn't Azkaban, though? I've heard it's very serious there, as well. Very gloomy."

Hermione fumed. Her hands were clutched tightly into fists until her knuckles were pale. With an enraged growl, she spun around and walked back out of the pub, pushing past a small group of wizards who'd just entered the pub. Ginny frowned and let out a sigh.

"Who was that you just scared off?" asked Albert as he continued to inspect his glass as though he had never seen it before. "Not that I blame you. She seemed an angry sort of witch. They're rarely enjoyable to have around."

"Oh, that was just Hermione," Ginny replied as she signaled Tom for a butterbeer. "She'll be alright."

"Hermione?" Albert repeated. He put his glass down and stared at the rough wood of the bar instead. "It's not a common name, is it? Hermione... I've heard it before." Ginny took a bottle from Tom, and pretended she hadn't heard Albert. She didn't want to talk about Hermione any more than she wanted to talk to her.

"Hold on," Albert said as he looked up from the bar. "Hermione Granger. Was that Hermione Granger?" Ginny took a drink of butterbeer and nodded. Albert smiled at her. "Wasn't she one of Harry Potter's friends?"

Ginny nearly choked on her butterbeer. She stared at Albert for a moment before answering, "Yes. Yes she was one of his best friends."

"Was she?" Albert replied thoughtfully. "I've always been told that Harry Potter picked his friends well. I'd have thought she would have been a little more... well, friendly, I suppose. Does she always harass people like that?"

"Well... sometimes, I guess," Ginny said with a smile, "but she wasn't really harassing me. Hermione is my friend." Ginny put down her bottle and looked toward the doorway Hermione had left through moments earlier. "She's probably the best friend I have."

"Looks like you need some better friends," Albert commented, then frowned and shook his head. "Maybe she was nicer when Potter was around. People say that no one ever really changes, but they're wrong. The world can be cruel, and that can change people, sometimes right in front of your eyes. I guess that's the nature of things. All magic breaks down eventually." He looked down at his glass, then tipped it back, emptying its contents in seconds.

"It's tragic, really," he said. "So what happened between you and this Hermione? Is she jealous of your job? Maybe just your success?" Ginny shook her head and Albert gave her a strange look. "It's not about some bloke is it? Maybe Harry Potter? Maybe she hasn't quite gotten over him?"

"Gotten over Harry?" Ginny nearly shouted. "No, she and Harry were never like that."

"Ah, so you knew him, then?"

"Yes," Ginny answered quietly. "We― We were both at Hogwarts together. He helped me out a bit my first year."

"That's sounds like him," Albert said with a smile. "So, if it's not Potter, maybe it's some other bloke. It's always a bloke with witches your age. I'm always surprised they have time to eat, but then, looking at them, maybe they don't. 'Course, the blokes like that nowadays, so it only encourages them. Madness," he said shaking his head and blinking at her. "You don't fancy the same bloke, do you?"

"Hermione has been going out with my brother for two years now," Ginny answered.

Albert's eyes widened and he leaned closer to Ginny. "And you fancy him, too, is that it?"

Ginny nearly spit out her butterbeer. "No!" she shouted disgustedly.

"Ah, right. Yes, of course. Very good," Albert agreed as if he'd never thought differently. "Still, I've seen these things turn sour all the time. Good, even tempered wizards seduced by shallow, manipulative witches who only want them for their money. I don't blame you for mistrusting that Granger woman."

"That's not how it is," Ginny said. "Hermione's great, I swear, and I don't mistrust her. I'd trust her with my life ―and I have― but this is... different. If too many people see her talking to me, she'll, er... she'll be in quite a bit of trouble, and maybe worse."

Albert frowned and set his glass down loudly. "Right," he said sternly. "I never could stand all that trouble-causing. It's fine when it's some wizard selling faulty brooms off a cart, but it's not nice to run about causing trouble for young witches. It's just not proper," he said, jabbing his finger into the top of the bar. "They should know better."

Ginny just stared at him in bewilderment. "Who are you talking about?"

"I don't rightly know," Albert said, shaking his head. "Who were you talking about?"

"The wizards in the Department of Mysteries," Ginny answered. "That's where she works."

"Ah. Right, then. _Them,_" Albert said, drinking yet another glass. "They're even worse."

"Worse than whom?"

"I don't know," he declared, "but they're worse than most, I'd say." He put his glass back down on the bar and leaned closer to her. "Now, I don't mean any disrespect, but you really should pay more attention. You work for the Ministry, now. They do serious work there."

Ginny goggled at him. "Albert, have you ever wondered if there might be any... permanent consequences to drinking as often and as much as you do?"

He frowned and filled another glass. "Well, I admit I have considered it a time or two," he told her. "I never really got too far with it, though. I remember a while back, some wizard was trying to convince me it was bad for me. Or at least I think he was," Albert mumbled. "Well, he certainly sounded like he knew what he was talking about. I tried to pay attention, but he wasn't very persuasive. I can't speak a word of German, but that's all he'd use. Oh, how was Germany?"

"It was fine," Ginny answered flatly, still staring at Albert and trying to figure out what they'd been talking about. "I didn't get to see much of it, to be honest. I was stuck in the castle the whole time."

"The whole time?" he asked. "Hmm. It's not surprising, but it doesn't really explain why you've got two wizards following you."

Ginny stiffened in her seat, but made no move to try and find the wizards Albert was talking about. "They've been following me for quite a while now," she said calmly.

"Yes, they have," Albert agreed, "but they used to try and hide. These two look almost as if they want you to see them. And they're not Ministry wizards."

"No, I wouldn't expect they would be," Ginny said in a low voice.

"Are you alright?" Albert asked seriously. "I mean, are you in danger? If you are, I know some wizards who might be able to help. They're old friends of mine. You can trust them. If you need someplace safe to go, they can help you."

"That's alright, Albert," Ginny said with a frown, "I'll be fine. I don't think it's that bad yet. However, it's probably bad enough that you shouldn't spend much time around me. You'll end up getting pulled into this too." Ginny slipped off her stool and nodded to Tom.

"I think I've had a long enough life to risk a little danger," Albert said as he raised his glass to her and drank it. "Don't you worry about me. If you find yourself in trouble, you know where to find me."

"I do," Ginny said with a nod. "I really should go. Good night, Albert." As Ginny walked away, she looked at the pair of wizards who had been watching her. She recognized one of them as the wizard she'd spoken to at the Ministry. The other didn't look familiar at all. Just like the Ministry, they made no move to follow her. Still, she took no chances and Apparated away as soon as she could.

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was completely dark, yet Ginny found herself feeling rather apprehensive as she approached the door. It opened the same way it always had, and revealed the same dark entryway that she'd walked into a hundred times before, yet something felt off.

She closed the door behind her and waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. As she waited, she thought she heard faint noises coming from the kitchen. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her wand and slowly crept forward toward the door to the kitchen. She reached the door and slowly pushed it open.

Against the black, she saw a lighter silhouette of a person standing in the corner. She raised her wand and prepared to cast some appropriate hex. Suddenly she heard footsteps to her left. She twisted and found a second shape walking toward her.

"_Stupefy!_" she shouted.

The beam of light from her wand struck the shape, but bounced off into the ceiling. The shape dropped to the ground, but the other one in the corner was running for her. She tried to get another hex off, but it was too late and she was knocked to the ground. As she struggled against her attacker, she felt a pair of hands wrapping around her wand hand, trying to pry her wand free.

"Lights!" a voice cried out, and a number of lamps flared to life around the room. In the rapidly growing light, Ginny found herself faced with a blonde witch who couldn't be much older than she was. Ginny froze as she realized she recognized something in the witch's face. When Ginny stopped fighting, the witch pinning her to the ground stopped as well. She stared down at Ginny with a look of surprised terror.

"You... You are her," she said with a French accent. She jumped up, backing away as if Ginny might suddenly burst into flame. "It is her. She is here. I must go. It is not safe." she mumbled.

Ginny pushed herself up on her elbows and found Harry climbing back to his feet. "Harry, I― I didn't know it was you. I just saw... What's going on? Why was the room dark?"

He didn't reply. Instead, he pocketed his wand and rushed over to the girl who'd tackled Ginny. He grabbed her shoulders. "It's alright," he told her in a comforting voice. "You're safe. We're all safe here." The woman clutched at Harry's arms and stared into his eyes. A mysterious pain pricked at Ginny's chest.

"No―" the young woman insisted, "―not with her here. It's her they want. They'll come for her."

"Who'll come for me?" Ginny asked, feeling a little annoyed at Harry for completely ignoring her.

"The dark ones," the other witch replied fearfully, "in hoods and masks."

"Hoods and masks? The Death Eaters?" Ginny asked. "Are you certain they were wearing masks? Sometimes you just can't see their faces. The Death Eaters, they're just a nuisance now. It's the Brotherhood wizards who've been trying to kill me."

"Kill you? No. They don't want you dead." the witch responded. "A few perhaps, out of spite, but not the ones in charge, and certainly not that bastard D'Anneau. He never wanted you dead, and after he met you..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes looked blankly at the floor.

"Hold on," Ginny said, ignoring the tightness in her chest and the growing warmth in her face. "Henri D'Anneau was killed by the Brotherhood. Are you trying to say that he was one of them?"

"Henri is dead," Harry said firmly. "It doesn't matter who he claimed to support. He supported himself and cared only for himself. He only joined the Brotherhood to use them for his own gains. He was too arrogant to realize that someone else might do the same to him."

"But he never did anything," Ginny said. "They killed him before he could do anything. If they trusted him so little, why let him near me?"

"Because that is all they wanted him to do," the witch explained. "Now that I see you, I understand. They recruited him because they knew what he would do when he met you. They knew he would try to keep you close to him. They knew he would bring you to the Brotherhood."

"How many delegates did they search through before they found him?" Ginny asked skeptically.

"None," the witch answered with a confused look. "D'Anneau has been a member of the Brotherhood for ten months. They are the reason why he was on the delegation. They are the reason he was the head delegate. Ten months ago, they picked him for one purpose. When he was no longer useful, they killed him. It might be the best thing they've done in a century."

Ginny frowned and pushed herself to a sitting position. "They killed him because he was going to tell me about the Brotherhood. He failed them."

"Did he?" the witch responded. "What do you think happened that night?"

"Enough," Harry interrupted.

"I want to hear what she's got to say, Harry!"

"I know, and that's the problem," he said. "She's got too much to say. The Brotherhood will hunt her down."

Ginny scowled at Harry. "The Brotherhood is already hunting me down, and you didn't have any problem telling her more than you told me," she added bitterly.

"It's not like that," the other witch said as she sat down at the table. "He hasn't told me anything. I know because... because my sister told me. My name is Sophie Morel. My sister was Sabine D'Anneau. She had been talking about you for months. I had assumed that Harry knew about you, but I had been told that you didn't know about him."

"I didn't," Ginny said, "but I do now. Harry wanted it to be a secret, but it seems it didn't matter. One of the Brotherhood wizards was waiting for me by the guard's desk in the Ministry Entrance Hall."

"Did he do anything... odd?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, nothing at all," she answered. "He just stood there. He asked me what time it was, but he was probably just trying to get me to realize I had bruises on my wrists. He was there when I left, too. And then he brought a friend to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Did you tell anyone about Romania?" Harry asked forcefully. "Anyone at all?"

"No. Why? What's going on?"

"Something has happened," he said gravely, "something very serious. Sophie was right. The Death Eaters are trying to find you. The Brotherhood told them that you would be coming with me to rescue Sophie."

"They lied," Ginny said. "They knew I hadn't gone with you this morning. Why would they lie to the Death Eaters? Why would the Death Eaters even listen to them after what happened in the Ministry?"

"I can't really say. Maybe the Brotherhood convinced them it was necessary, maybe the Death Eaters didn't realize the tip came from the Brotherhood, or maybe the Brotherhood offered them something that was worth the risk. There are plenty of reasons why they might work together, but I can't figure out why they chose to start now."

"Well, there was something," Ginny announced. "The Ministry knows something happened in Romania, but none of the details, especially not the part we played. However, they all want to know. Harrington, Reynard, and even the Minister wanted me to tell them what had happened. I'd have been forced to tell them, but Tarus offered to make me the Official Liaison to Romania."

"He did what?"

Ginny took some time to explain everything that Harrington and Mrs. Reading had told her about her new position. The more Harry heard, the more troubled he looked. She went on to tell them about the request she'd passed on to the Minister, and what she'd seen at the Leaky Cauldron. When she was finished, Harry was sitting in a chair with his face buried in his hands, looking as though he were deep in thought.

"Tarus said he didn't know what happened?"

"No."

"And he didn't need the Aurors immediately?"

"No, he just wanted Scrimgeour to get more of them. It sounded like they'll have to find about twenty more. I guess they can try to convince all the Aurors who retired or quit to come back for a year. It'd be faster than trying to rush students through the courses," Ginny commented. "What does it all mean?"

"It means we still have some time," Harry answered.

"Time for what?"

"Time to prepare for the war," he said. "It's very close now. It hasn't started yet, and I'm not sure why. If Tarus is asking the Ministry for Aurors, then I don't have much time to talk to Ron and Hermione."

"We can send an owl to Hermione right now," suggested Ginny. "She'll know to come here. She already knows something is happening. She might even know some things you don't."

"They watch her too closely. If they saw her get an owl and then Disapparate somewhere they couldn't find her, they'd guess she was coming to talk to me. I need to find some other way," he said. The room fell silent as Ginny and Sophie watched Harry think. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at Ginny. "What about Ron? They don't watch him as closely. If we sent a message to him, he could pass it on to Hermione. It'd look suspicious if they both came here, but we might be able to use him to pass a message to her."

"We might, but not tonight," Ginny said. "He's got a match tomorrow, so no owls will get to him ―as if getting an owl might somehow ruin their excellent chances tomorrow," she added disgustedly.

"Ron's got a match tomorrow? Where?"

"Holyhead," Ginny replied. "They don't have a chance."

"It's going to be a short match?"

"Unless lightning strikes their Seeker, and even then I'd put my Galleons on the Harpies."

"That's how we'll do it," Harry said excitedly. He leaped to his feet and started rummaging through the cabinets of half-made potions and various ingredients. With a disgusted frown, he closed the cabinet and walked to another cabinet.

"Whatever you're looking for, it's not in there," Ginny commented. "It's locked tight. I've tried everything on it."

Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the small wooden handle. With a light _click_ the door opened smoothly. Ginny stared at it in amazement, and Harry shrugged. "You didn't try everything," he said. "You tried everything you could find. The book you needed was locked in here." Harry pulled out a grey cloak and quickly wrapped it around his shoulders.

Ginny recognized the style immediately. It was the same type of cloak the Brotherhood wore. "Where did you get that?" she asked him.

"From the Brotherhood," he replied simply. "Some of the places I go make the Lower City in Romania feel friendly. I couldn't walk two steps without being hexed by every wizard in sight, but they don't ask any questions to Brotherhood wizards."

"Where do you need to go?" Ginny asked.

"Spain," he answered as he pulled the hood of the cloak over his head.

"What? Why?"

"Because they won't be looking for me in Spain and I have some things to buy," he explained. "You, er... found something in Giza, a golden ring on a chain. Do you still have it?"

"Yes."

"Have you shown it to anyone?"

"No," Ginny said. "―Wait, yes. I showed it to a friend at the Leaky Cauldron. No one else saw it and he told me to make sure I kept it hidden."

"The Leaky Cauldron? You showed something like that to some friend you made at a pub?"

"It's alright, Harry. Even if he did tell anyone else about it, they'd never believe him. He― He can be a bit strange."

"But you take his advice? I guess it does explain some of the things you've done," he mumbled.

"He's a good wizard, Harry!" Ginny declared. "He's helped me out more than once. He's old, but he's rich and he wants to help. He said he has friends who could help us."

"That's excellent, Ginny," Harry said as he tightened the straps on his boots. "When the Brotherhood attacks, I'll let you lead the drunkard army. While you think up some strategies, may I borrow the ring?"

"What does it do?" she asked. "Albert said it was dangerous."

"Well, he was right. It's not terribly magical, but the last wizard who picked one up was killed for simply touching it. They'll kill me whether I've got it or not, so I'm not terribly worried. It will help me get what I need, though."

Ginny tried to get him to explain more, but he was very eager to leave and refused to say anything more. She fetched the golden talisman from a locked jewelry box in one of the bedrooms and handed it to him.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he said as he slipped the chain around his neck. "Get something to eat. Get some rest if you can."

"What about me?" Sophie called out from the other side of the room. "Am I just going to live here?"

"No," Harry answered. "You'd never be able to leave, and I won't let you live like that. When I return, I'll take you to Canada. There are some wizards there who will help you start a new life. They'll make sure that you're safe until this war is over."

He turned back to Ginny and gave her a weak smile. "I have to go. I'm sorry. There is so much I have to do. I _will_ be back. I promise." Without another word, he turned and strode out of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Ginny and Sophie ate a very quiet and somewhat awkward meal. Ginny restrained her desire to try and get Sophie to talk about the things she had learned. Sophie seemed content to do little more than sit and eat. When they had finished the meal, they moved into the study and Ginny made some tea for them to drink as they waited for Harry to return.

Three hours after he'd left, Ginny heard Harry walk through the front door. She found him in the kitchen, hanging a medium-sized black cauldron in the fireplace. He slid an iron lid onto the cauldron and started a small fire.

"What's that?" she asked once he was finished.

"It's, er... something for tomorrow."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "You can't even tell me what's in the cauldron?"

"I can, but I don't have time. It's, er... complicated. If I told you now, you'd just ask more questions than I have time to answer," Harry said, as he ran back to the locked cabinet. He quickly shed his cloak and tossed the chain and talisman back to her. "Put that someplace safe. Don't ever let it leave this house." Ginny stared at it for a moment, inspecting it for any sign that it had been used for some purpose. Meanwhile, Harry was slipping another cloak around himself, a black one this time.

"Now where are you going?" Ginny asked flatly.

"Canada," he answered, "with Sophie. We have to leave as soon as we can. There's no time."

"What's happening, Harry? Who are we fighting?"

"Right now, we're fighting the Death Eaters," he said as he pulled a large bag from the cabinet and began filling it with a pair of bottles and some smaller items.

"Death Eaters? What do they want?"

"The only thing they ever want," he replied. "They remember the mistake they made seventeen years ago. They all thought that Voldemort was dead, but he wasn't. They aren't going to fall for that again."

"But he is dead... isn't he?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, then stopped, packing the bag and stood up. "Yes. He has to be dead," he said, sounding less confident than Ginny had hoped. He looked at her and frowned. "I've been trying to get them to realize that for a year now. I don't suppose you've thought of something that might work? I haven't tried singing yet, do you think that might do it?"

"I don't think so."

Harry closed the cabinet, walked to the counter and tossed a single loaf of bread in the bag. "I guess we'll just have to fight them for now," he said with a dramatic sigh. He tied up the bag and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Ginny sitting alone. A moment later, he walked back through the door, with Sophie following him.

"We've got to go, Ginny," Harry announced as he stood by the door leading to the foyer. "It's going to take time. We'll have to use the Floo System, so that means we're going to be doing some running and probably a little hiding as well. I don't think I'll be back before midnight. Please try and get some sleep. We'll need it tomorrow. If I'm not back before Ron's match, then I'll need you to tell him to come back here and not leave. I _am_ coming back. I promise you."

Ginny nodded weakly as he opened the door and pulled Sophie out of the room, and then out of the house.

She tried all sorts of things to occupy her mind as the night wore on. Nothing worked. Now that she knew Harry was alive, she was consumed with fears of all the things he was doing and all the danger he was in. She was encouraged by the thought that he'd being doing this for a year, and yet she knew that no one's luck lasted forever and Harry had been testing his luck quite a bit recently.

She spent an hour trying to get into the locked cabinet he'd been using. She'd always ignored it. It was just another locked thing in the house that no one could open. How many other things had Harry locked to keep their contents a secret from her? For the most part, she was trying to open it just to give her something to think about other than an army of Death Eaters hunting Harry. A smaller part of her wanted to know just what he kept in there that he still needed to keep hidden.

When it became obvious that she wouldn't get it open, she moved on to other things. She cleaned the kitchen, and even took some time to make a weak sleeping potion. She couldn't bring herself to drink it quite yet. Instead, she rearranged the furniture in the study and fixed up the bedroom Harry had always liked.

Slowly, her long day caught up with her, and she forced herself to do as Harry told her. She walked up the stairs to the closest bedroom, and crawled into the bed. She drank the potion she'd made and hoped for a deep, dreamless sleep.

Ginny awoke the next day to sunlight shining into the bedroom. For a moment, it was relaxing and pleasant, then she remember what had happened the previous day. "_Harry!_" she gasped as her eyes snapped open. It was morning and he hadn't woken her up. Where was he? Had he returned? Her arm shot out to the bed stand where she'd put her wand.

A voice rang out across the room, "Relax," it said, "I'm right here."

Ginny lifted her head and found Harry sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, tracing his wand across the pages of a large book. "I was afraid you wouldn't sleep," he said. "I'm glad you did. You must have been tired."

Ginny sat up, rubbed her eyes, and replied, "Yes, well, it is a lot easier to sleep when you're not tied to an old table."

"Perhaps for you," Harry agreed as he paged through the book, "but it's so much more boring this way."

Ginny swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood up. "I'm sure it is," she mumbled. "You never did explain just how you know so much about my knickers."

Harry finally looked up from his book. "Ah, right. I was just thinking of just how much I'd love to explain that to you, but I didn't want it to be rushed, and we don't really have a surplus of time right now."

"Very well," Ginny said as she quickly jabbed her wand at Harry. He tossed his book and tried to dive away, but he was too slow. His legs froze where they were and his torso flopped forward, pulling his wand from his hand and dropping it to the floor by his feet. He struggled for a moment before stopping and glaring at Ginny.

"Ginny, we don't have time for this. I was trying to be nice. I let you sleep in. We've only got two hours before Ron's match."

"That'll be plenty of time," she said smoothly. "I look terrible. I need to clean up and get dressed and I obviously cannot trust you. So you can stay here while I get ready."

Harry glared at her. "Fine," he replied in defeat, "but be quick. We've got other things to do before we go. And can you at least give me my book?"

Ginny walked over to the chair Harry was stuck in and picked up the book. The title of the book was written in bold letters across the cover: _Hexes for Hundreds of Hazards_.

"Something in here you needed for today?" Ginny asked as she leafed through it.

"No," Harry growled, "I'm just looking for something to occupy my time."

"Then cheer up, Harry," she said with a smile, "at least you're still wearing all your clothes." She tucked the book under her arm and walked out the door.

Almost an hour later, she returned and freed Harry with a flick of her wand. He glared at her as he leaned forward to pick up his wand. "Come on," he said, "we need to be at the match in an hour." He took his book back from a smiling Ginny and walked silently down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"And just what are you planning on doing when we get there?" Ginny asked. "I hope you're not planning to grab him and tie him to a table, because I'm not terribly interested in seeing Ron without his robes."

"No, I don't plan on having to save Ron after he runs into a pack of thieves, either," Harry shot back at her.

Ginny flashed a playful scowl. "So what _are_ you planning on doing?" she asked. "There's no way they're going to let you on the pitch and you're not going to be able to get him alone any other time. He'll probably go straight to Hermione's flat after the match. Or were you planning to talk to them both there?"

"No," Harry replied immediately, "I don't think either one of us is safe in Hermione's flat. Too many people are watching it now. It has to be after the match, and you're right, they'll never let a wizard who's supposed to be dead on the pitch, even if he used to be a friend of the Keeper."

"So― You're just going to send me to talk to Ron?"

"Something like that," Harry answered with a smirk.

"Why would you even go, then? Why not just wait here, let me talk to Ron and I'll convince him to stop off here after the match."

"Two reasons, I guess," Harry said, as he walked over to the fireplace and pulled the lid from the small cauldron he'd set there the previous night. "First, they might know something was up when he didn't show up at Hermione's flat right away." He stepped away from the cauldron and began rummaging in a cabinet. "More importantly, it's too dangerous for you to walk out onto that pitch. You heard Sophie, the Death Eaters are looking for you, and I'm sure they'll be at the match."

"Alright, so neither of us should be there," Ginny said with frustration. "I guess we can just write messages on parchment and toss them at him from the stands then?"

"I've got a better idea," Harry said. He nodded toward the cauldron and said, "Take a look at that and see if you can recognize it."

Ginny walked over to the cauldron and peered down into it. It was filled with a brown, bubbling substance with a consistency somewhere between a thick stew and mud. If the stomach turning appearance wasn't enough, the aroma was so distinctive that she was saying the answer before she'd even been able to turn away.

"Polyjuice Potion," she said with a sickened groan. "Who are you― _OUCH!_" There was a sharp tug in the back of her head, followed by a sharp stab of pain which faded quickly. She turned on Harry. "That hurt!" she shouted.

Harry was standing behind her holding two large flasks, and a single flame-colored strand of Ginny's hair. "What was that for?" she demanded as she rubbed her head and watched Harry ladle some of the potion into both of the flasks. The realization hit her a second later.

"_No!_" she said sharply. "Don't even think about it, Harry."

"It's the only way, Ginny," he replied. "You're the only one they'll let onto the pitch, and I'm the only one who can tell Ron what he needs to know."

"It wouldn't be the only way if you'd just _trust me_," Ginny snapped. However, it was too late. Harry had already dropped the hair into the flask, causing it to bubble fiercely. She shot a warning look at him, but he ignored it, and tipped the flask back as soon as the bubbling subsided.

"Harry―" she called as he doubled over, and collapsed onto the floor. She kneeled down in front of him and helped him back into a sitting position. "Harry, are you alright? Where did you get that? How do you know it's not poisoned?"

"It's not poisoned," he said between convulsions. "I paid far too much for it to be poisoned." He tried to laugh, but it was cut short by another series of spasms. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and curled forward.

Ginny backed away instinctively, thinking he was about to be sick. "What's happening, Harry?" she asked in a panicked voice.

His arms and legs began shaking, but he was able to look up at her. "Don't worry..." he said through clenched teeth, "this is― completely normal." Ginny slid back again as the pupils in his eyes contracted to a pair of small pinpoints.

Then, slowly, a soft chocolate brown spilled over the bright emerald green of his eyes. His face contracted, his nose got shorter and smaller, and clusters of freckles appeared across his cheeks and nose. Finally, his hair twisted and lengthened, turning from his dark black to a fiery red. With a gasp, he slumped forward and tried to catch his breath.

Ginny was having the same problem. She stood up unsteadily and forced herself to sit down in a nearby chair. Sitting on the floor in front of her was an exact copy of herself, blinking and staring back at her.

"Harry? You're alright?"

Harry pushed himself to his knees and then climbed onto one of the benches by the large kitchen table. "Yeah, I'm fine," he panted. "That's about how it always is. The first drink is always the worst."

"The first?"

"Yeah, I'll have to take a drink of that every forty minutes or so to be safe," he explained with her voice. "With luck, Holyhead will finish them off quickly. I don't think I've got much more than a few hours of it."

"And what am I supposed to do? Someone's going to get suspicious if they see two of me walking around."

"That's why there are two flasks. There's a vial over there with a hair I collected off a witch in Canada. She's about your size, blonde hair and without an annoying voice. You can't imagine how quickly that will drive you mad."

"How am I supposed to get onto the pitch, then?"

"You're not," Harry answered. "We're not even going to be sitting together. You can keep an eye on me. If things go bad ―and they might― I'll need all the help I can get. Oh, and speaking of help, there is something else I'll need before we go."

"What now? You want me to make you some breakfast?"

Harry frowned and slowly stood up. Now that she was over the shock of talking to her own duplicate, she realized what Harry was about to ask. Ginny knew she wasn't tall, and though Harry wasn't as tall as Ron, he wasn't short. The robes which had been expertly tailored to fit Harry now hung off Ginny's body like a set of old drapes, dragging on the floor and only partially obscuring a pair of shoes which were comically oversized for Ginny's feet.

"I need to borrow some clothes," Harry said.

"You know, I've never thought I'd hear you say that," she said flatly. "I can't say it's a memory I'll treasure."

"Well, technically you only heard yourself say it," Harry commented. It didn't make Ginny feel any better.

"Did you have anything specific in mind?" she asked as she walked to the cabinet.

"Something bright, I think," he said thoughtfully. "I don't want it to look like I'm hiding from anything."

"How about these?" she asked, holding up a set of dark maroon robes with gold trim.

Harry nodded and she tossed them to him. He carefully laid the robes on the table, pulled off the set of robes he had been wearing and started to unbutton his shirt.

"Hold on!" Ginny shouted. "You're just going to change right here?"

"Yeah," Harry replied with a confused look. "I mean, it's not like... well..."

"No, no," she said as she turned away. "Go somewhere else. I'd rather not have to watch myself change, Harry."

Harry shrugged, picked up the maroon robes, and made his way to the door that led to the small study. When he got to the door, he stopped and looked back at her. "You know," he began hesitantly, "I'm going to need a little more than just these robes. I mean, er... _none_ of my clothes fit."

An icy chill shot down Ginny's spine. "_No!_" she shouted. "Reverse the potion, Harry. End it. You can't do this!"

"I _have to_, Ginny," Harry insisted. "You don't understand how serious this is."

"No, Harry. You don't get to see me naked!" she yelled. Harry froze and he stared at her with a hurt, confused expression. Ginny felt the heat building in her cheeks. "―I mean, not now― not like this, alright?" Feeling flustered, she she covered her face with her hands.

"There isn't a choice, Ginny," she heard her own voice say. "If I don't get to Ron today, it means that they'll get to him first. I don't know what will happen if they do. This is the only way I've found, and we're running out of time."

Ginny closed her eyes, and swallowed a frustrated scream. She strode back over to the cabinet, and reached into the bottom drawer, searching for two very particular items. After finding them, she threw them at Harry, then found a skirt and shirt to give him as well.

"The skirt will be more comfortable in the heat," she told him in a defeated tone. "I'll find some socks and shoes for you while you... you... change," she finally finished. As Harry opened the door, she took her last opportunity to speak with him.

"Keep your eyes up and be as quick as you can," she ordered him, "―and I swear I'll beat you with your own broom if I even _think_ that you're looking in a mirror!"

"You'll never do that," he said as he walked through the door, "it's locked in a Gringott's vault. You'll have to use your broom."

Ginny pulled her wand and spun about, ready to hit him with eight different hexes, but he was gone and the door was already closing behind him. Ginny walked back over to the cabinet and picked out a pair of socks and some trainers that he'd be able to walk in. She tried to ignore the creepiness of picking out clothes for the man she was in love with. After a few minutes, her discomfort began turning to anger.

"Harry!" she shouted, "I told you to be quick!"

"You said to be as quick as I could," he shouted back. "Unless you want to come in here and help, you'd best shut up and let me do it."

"It doesn't take that long, Harry!"

"Maybe not for you, but it's not like I've been doing this every day!" he called back to her. "How in the world do you put this bloody thing on? You know, I'd think it would be even more upsetting if I wasn't having problems."

"I'll try and find a way to control my happiness," she replied sarcastically.

"Bloody hell!" she heard him shout a moment later. "This is impossible. What did you do, give me the most uncomfortable knickers you own?"

"Yes."

"What? Why did you do that?" he replied. "Why couldn't I have the purple ones?"

"Because I _like_ the purple ones. I'm going to burn those when you're done with them."

"Oh, that's nice!" Harry responded in a hurt tone. "I think I liked you better when you were strapped to the table."

"I liked you better when you weren't _wearing my knickers_!" Ginny shouted bitterly.

A moment later, Harry walked through the door, looking quite a bit more like Ginny. "Trust me, I'm not really enjoying wearing them," Harry said. "If you think that this is my idea of fun, then you're bloody mental. However, I do know what you'll be getting for Christmas."

Ginny looked at him and slumped forward defeatedly. "Come over here. I'll fix your hair."

Ginny spent the next few minutes in odd discomfort, pulling his hair back into a loose pony tail, straightening his clothes, and other miscellaneous fixes. When she was finished, she stepped back and gave him a disgusted look.

"What is it?" he asked. "Do I look enough like you?"

Ginny let out a frustrated sigh. "You look better than I do."

"Oh," he said, pulling a face that Ginny had seen herself make before. "I suppose I better get going then."

"What about me?" she called out. "I haven't even taken the potion yet."

"I know," he said with a slight frown. "We can't be seen together, and this way, I know you won't follow me until we get to the match. You'll want to pick some different clothes, as well," he suggested. "Something that no one would recognize as yours, but nothing that won't let you blend into the crowd."

"You're leaving me again," Ginny said weakly. "What's going to happen after the match, Harry? Are you going to run off after Hermione? Then Lupin? Why are you avoiding me?"

"I haven't been avoiding you ―at least, not recently," he corrected. "There's just no time right now, Ginny. You don't know how delicately things are balanced right now. Everything is resting upon Ron and Hermione. If the Brotherhood gets to them, I― I can't let the Brotherhood get to them. If everything goes well today, we will have all night to sit and talk."

"Is that a promise?"

"No. I don't know what's going to happen. If I think there's a chance to talk to Hermione, I'm going to have to do it, but I don't think they'll let that happen. I'll probably have to wait until Tuesday." Harry pulled a watch out of his pocket, and looked at it. "You've only got about thirty minutes," he said. "I have to go. I'll be sitting five rows in front of you. After the match, keep an eye on me. If everything goes smoothly, leave as soon as I stop talking to Ron and meet me by the gate. I have a handkerchief in my pocket. If you see me drop it, I want you to count to thirty and then leave as quickly as you can."

Harry took a step closer to her, and Ginny was subjected to the bizarre experience of looking into her own eyes. "I promise I will come back, Ginny," he said seriously. "I'm not leaving you again. It was a mistake. I thought I was keeping you safe. I was wrong. I _will_ come back."

Then without any warning, he stepped toward her. Ginny instinctively closed her eyes, and then let out a quiet squeal as she felt a pair of soft lips pressing against her own. Her eyes flew open and she saw her own face frightfully close by. For a few seconds she was frozen in shock, then as a pair of feminine hands reached for her shoulders, her arms reacted on reflex, pushing Harry away from her.

Harry looked shocked and confused. Ginny could only imagine that he was seeing the exact same expression ―on the very same face, no less. "What― I was―" he sputtered.

"Harry, that― I―" she said stumbling over her own words. "Frankly, I think there's one too many of me in the room right now. You should just go. I'll see you later."

"I'm sorry, I didn't―"

"No," Ginny said emphatically. "No, you didn't think. I... I wonder if there's any Firewhiskey in this place. I could really do without a memory right now."

"There are few bottles in the cellar behind the pumpkin wine," he said as he walked to the door. "If things go bad... I do love you." Ginny turned to look at him, but he was already gone. She heard the front door open, then close. Harry was gone again.

The match was just as uninteresting as she had told Harry it would be. Ron wasn't doing all that bad ―pretty good, considering the horrible show the Beaters were putting on― but the Cannons' Seeker was getting thoroughly abused.

The Harpies' Seeker was still flying around effortlessly, waiting a few minutes or so between feints. Her broom was faster and she was a better flier than the younger Seeker on the opposing team. He looked like he could barely hang onto his broom and there was absolutely no chance he'd be able to catch the Snitch even if it ran into his chest.

The annoyance was clear on Ron's face. The Cannons would lose yet another game and he'd be forced into another night of hiding. Harry had been right. His only chance to talk to Ron was going to be after the match. The only thing to wait for now was the inevitable end of the match.

Ginny had shown up just before the match started and found Harry (or rather, herself) sitting five rows ahead, just as Harry said she would. He never turned to look for her, and no one around her tried talking to her at all. Harry, on the other hand, was forced to chat with an old witch who was sitting next to him. Ginny hoped he wasn't saying anything that she'd regret later. She was also hoping that the conversation hadn't distracted him from the fact that a pair of dark haired wizards were standing near the stairs and keeping a close eye on him.

A shout went up from the crowd. When she'd been looking at the wizards, the Harpies' Seeker had finally spotted the Snitch and, in just a matter of seconds, had picked it from the air. She was now circling the pitch triumphantly. When Ginny looked to find Ron, he was already sailing down to the grass, looking disappointed but not terribly upset. As the rest of the crowd cheered, she caught a flash of red hair slipping between the rest of the spectators. Harry was leaving and the wizards were following him.

She couldn't follow him at first, and she had almost started panicking by time the next spectators made their way toward the stairs. Ginny followed them immediately, trying to look down the stairs for any sign of Harry. When she reached the ground, he was gone. She tried to control the pounding in her chest and forced herself to walk calmly toward the pitch. That's where Harry would be. It would be easy to spot him talking to Ron. If he made it that far...

Ginny's hopes were answered a minute later when she broke through the crowds and finally saw a short, red-haired witch walking toward Ron. A large security wizard stared at her suspiciously, but turned away when she made no move to sneak past him. Instead she stepped back a bit, and watched Ron from the shadow cast by one of the massive towers.

Harry had been surprised by how quickly the security wizards had waved him by. It must have been the red hair, he told himself. He didn't want to think that Ginny had become so well known that security wizards in Holyhead recognized her on sight.

The match had been completely boring. He'd been forced to talk with an old witch who kept pestering him about Ron. She'd noticed the similarity and guessed Ginny's relation to him. Their conversation was the only thing that kept the match interesting. Compared to her rambling about her cats and the cost of new robes, even the abysmal play of the Beaters became enthralling.

The only good thing about the situation had been the woman's glasses. As she turned to talk to him, he'd caught glimpses of the wizards behind him, including a small witch with curly blonde hair and a short button nose. The pair of wizards staring at him from the stairs were much easier to keep an eye on. However, there were no worries there. They were here to watch Ginny, not to find Harry Potter. When the match finished, he slipped past them confidently and made his way to the pitch as quickly as he could. It didn't look like Ron was going to stick around for autographs.

As he strode across the pitch, Ron spotted him and stopped unbuckling his guards. "At least it was short this time," he said with a weak smile. "I don't have to repair any of my guards. My broom's still in good shape. I think that's been our best loss this season."

"Don't forget the fact that your Beaters were so terrible that no one was even paying attention to you," Harry added.

"Right," Ron agreed. "Forgot about that one. So why are you out on the pitch? Is four weeks long enough to forget about what happened last time?"

"I barely remember it at all."

"That's not always a good sign, Ginny," he said with a frown. He bent his head down to work on one of his guards, and began whispering, "What's going on, Ginny? Hermione's been acting strange. She said something happened at the Ministry yesterday. Is that why you're here?"

"Yes."

"You're still being followed?"

"Yes. Two of them. Standing right at the exit."

"You're sure?" Ron asked. "They look more like guards."

"They _are_ guards," Harry replied. "They're here to guard Ginny."

"_To guard Ginny?_" Ron replied. "What does that mean?"

"It means they are here to make certain that she's not put in danger when the other wizards come for you."

Ron froze, and dropped his guard to the ground. He stared at Harry for a moment, and then slowly waved an arm at another one of his fellow players. "Oi! Upham!"

A tall wizard with greying blond hair stopped and turned toward Ron. "Yeah, Weasley? What you want?"

"Tell Harcourt I'll be late. I've got to talk to a friend. Nothing serious."

The wizard paused and stared at Ginny with some amount of surprise. Then, as if deciding it was none of his business, he turned and walked away a little faster than he had been before Ron had called out to him.

"Do you want to go talk somewhere a little more private?" Ron asked stiffly.

"This is about as private as we're going to find," Harry said. "They're going to come for you. I don't know when, and I don't know where, but they're coming."

"Who's coming?"

"The Brotherhood of the Sacred Balance," Harry said clearly.

"Brotherhood? Wait, you mean the ones who tricked Charlie and then killed him?" Harry nodded, and Ron frowned. "Why are they coming for me?"

"Because you're Harry Potter's best friend."

"Harry's gone," Ron said. "He died a year ago."

"That's exactly what you need to say to them when they come," Harry said. "Don't tell them anything. Don't promise them anything. Don't make any bargains or agreements. They won't hurt you, not as long as you refuse to help them or tell them anything they want to know. Don't tell Hermione about any of it. Don't let them convince you she'll be safer if you do what they say. They're very convincing, but it's all a lie."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because if you don't Hermione will be dead ―or worse."

"You're not Ginny," Ron said with certainty.

"No."

"Where is she?"

"She's safe, and if I told you where, she wouldn't be safe anymore."

"Who are you?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"We'll find out soon enough," Ron said with a nod toward the edge of the pitch.

Harry turned and saw a pair of wizards in dark robes walk out onto the grass and began looking around the pitch. Behind them stood Hermione, looking more than a little concerned. He watched as she pulled out her wand and stared at Ron.

"You distrusting git," Harry hissed.

"Yeah, I guess so," Ron said acidly. "Did you think I'd let you come out here impersonating my sister and threaten her and Hermione?"

"You shouldn't have gotten her involved," Harry said in frustration. "It was supposed to be simple. It'll be so much harder now." He reached into his pocket and fished out the handkerchief. He let it discretely fall to the ground and began counting in his head. "Hermione is in danger, Ron. I don't know just how much yet, but this certainly isn't going to help."

"You dropped something," Ron pointed out. "Is that some sort of signal?"

"Is that Harcourt standing behind those Ministry wizards?"

"All I have to do is pull my wand and they'll come for you," Ron said threateningly . "If you're really here for my safety, you'll tell me who you are."

Harry smiled and pulled a something from his pocket. He held out his hand, revealing a small object that looked like a glass spinning top. Ron stared at it for a while before reaching out to take it.

"A Sneakoscope? So, just because this says you're trustworthy, I should do what you say?" he asked. "It probably doesn't even work. There's a ruddy big crack through it."

"Sorry about that," Harry apologized. "There were a pair of wizards in Brazil who didn't appreciate what it had to say about them. It isn't broken. I reckon it could still tell if the twins were putting beetles in your soup."

Ron's eyes jerked down to Harry's and he gave Ron a smirking smile. "You can trust me," he said more seriously. "I'm not lying. Hermione is in danger. So are you, but it'll be a lot less if you don't help the Brotherhood. They can't keep Hermione safe. They don't want to keep her safe. Will you promise me that you won't help them?"

Ron was staring at the Sneakoscope, but he nodded his head. Harry nodded in acknowledgment. "Alright. I need to go now. Is there anything you can do about Hermione's friends? There are only so many wizards I can escape from in one day."

Ron frowned and started walking toward Hermione. "Come on, then. If you are who I think you are, the best way to fix that is to let you talk to her."

"No!" Harry shouted, "Not yet, and not in front of them. I can't trust them, and neither should you. I'll talk to Hermione, but it can't be now. Not with everyone watching."

"Well, I don't know what do do, then," Ron said, stopping suddenly. "She's not going to believe me if I say that everything is alright. I've already told her that one of us is in trouble."

"We _are_ in trouble," Harry told him, "just not the type of trouble you might expect. Can you tell her there are Death Eaters here?"

"Are there?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. Ron frowned and turned toward Hermione. He touched his face as if taking off a mask and nodded toward the exit.

Ginny could tell by Ron's stiff posture that something wasn't right. A moment later she saw Hermione stride past her looking a little pale and trailing a pair of stern-looking wizards who weren't Aurors. When she saw them stepping out onto the pitch, she felt her chest tighten. It wasn't going well. Ron must have thought it was some sort of trap. Just then she saw something small and white drop to the grass. Harry's handkerchief.

Something bad was happening. She stood where she was and started counting.

_Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight..._

Something was definitely wrong. Ron looked tense and ready to spring at Harry. The pair of wizards with Hermione were searching the pitch for something, maybe even her. What was she supposed to do? Should she run? What if Harry needed help?

_Nineteen. Eighteen. Seventeen. Sixteen..._

There was no time to make any sort of decision. She had to either run as Harry had told her or do something before it was too late. Why did he want her to go? Was he in danger? Why had he told her to wait around for thirty seconds? What could that solve?

_Eight. Seven. Six. Five..._

She watched as Harry pulled something from a pocket and handed it to Ron. Ron seemed suddenly unsure, but Harry was standing as confidently as ever. _He's not afraid,_ she told herself, _He's still in control._ She took one last moment to look around her. If he wasn't in danger, it meant that he thought she was.

_Two. One._

With her heart pounding, Ginny stepped forward and tried to appear casual as she stepped into the stream of wizards walking down the path. She slipped just behind the pair of Brotherhood wizards and followed the crowd as it descended a series of shallow sets of steps carved into the hill the pitch had been build upon. As the path curled around the hill, she lost sight of the top of the path and all signs of the pitch. If anything were happening, she'd never know. All she could do was trust Harry. It had worked before.

At the foot of the hill, the path straightened out and became a long paved walkway under a canopy of tall trees. At the end of the walkway was a heavy iron gate leading to the Disapparation area. She was nearly out. When she was halfway to the gate, a pair of wizards in dark robes passed her on either side. They stopped suddenly and turned to face her.

"Excuse us, Miss. May we have a word?" one of them said in deep voice. A strong hand clapped her on the shoulder and pushed her off the path, into the deeper shade by the trunks of the trees lining the path. She recognized one of them, a tall blond Death Eater she had fought briefly the night Dumbledore had died. The other was a stranger to her, but there was a similar evil glint in his eyes.

"You look familiar," the stranger said in a sneering tone. "Have we met before?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed and her hand dipped into her robes to clutch at her wand. "I'm sure we haven't. I'd remember someone as vile as the pair of you."

"We ask only because you seem to be quite interested in the Weasley girl," the blond wizard said. "It just so happens that we're very interested in her as well. We think she's got something we want very badly. Are you an acquaintance of hers?"

"No."

"A pity," he replied. "We will have to seek her ourselves then. Those worthless gate worshipers won't watch her forever, and she won't let you lock her in a hole for the rest of her life. We'll find her, or we'll find you."

Ginny's mind raced. They thought she was Harry. Why hadn't they just attacked her? _The wards,_ her mind answered. Of course, all of the Quidditch pitches had them now. They'd stopped her there so she didn't Apparate away.

"What exactly do you want, and what are you willing to pay for it?" Ginny asked, feeling slightly bolder.

"We want what we've always wanted: the wand. In exchange for it, we will ask the Dark Lord to spare the lives of your friends when he returns to us."

"I don't have it," Ginny said confidently. "Check with the Brotherhood. Their leader took it."

"Oh, no," the stranger hissed, "we've had enough of that. The _Brotherhood_ will be repayed for its treachery when the Dark Lord is resurrected. We don't care who has it now. If their warlock truly is holding it, then bring us the wand with his arm and we will see that the red-haired girl is treated well by the Dark Lord."

Ginny tried to control her revulsion at the thought. "That's all? You just want some old wand?"

The stranger smiled. "An old wand, yes. That is all that we ask of you. There is something more we need of her. The warlock has said she has something we need. If she hands it over to us, we will spare her life. Now do we have a deal, or shall we just wait around here for your little potion to wear off?"

Before Ginny could answer she heard a commotion coming from the walkway. A number of wizards were shouting and running toward her.

"There! Death Eaters!" she heard a woman shout. Her head turned toward the voice and she saw Hermione standing on the edge of the walkway, directing four large wizards toward Ginny.

The stranger grabbed Ginny's robes and pulled her close to his face. "Tell that Mudblood Granger that she better nose out of wizards' business or we'll take care of her sooner rather than later," he growled. Then, with a grunt, he lifted her up and tossed her backward. She stumbled a little, then fell to the ground. The Death Eaters bolted for the gate, and the Ministry wizards followed them.

As Ginny wheezed and tried to catch her breath, Hermione ran up to where she laid. "Are you alright?" she asked, as she looked over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Ginny said between coughs, "I'm fine, Hermione."

Hermione's wand arm twitched. "How do you know my name?" she asked, stepping away from Ginny.

Ginny crawled back to her feet and tried to think of some good reason. Haltingly, she tried to explain, "Well, you, er... you're one of Potter's friends aren't you? I read the _Prophet_ and―"

"And you call everyone you read about by their first names?"

Before Ginny could answer, Hermione was distracted by something even more odd than a stranger who knew her name. A murmur was traveling through the crowd of spectators, and as it reached Ginny and Hermione, they saw the crowd parting to make room for a red-haired witch who was running down the pathway as fast as she could. Ginny barely recognized herself. Her cheeks were flushed and she was gasping for breath.

"Ginny!" Hermione shouted. She turned away and started looking for whatever danger Harry was running from, and found the pair of Brotherhood wizards running after her. They were catching up.

Ginny leaped after them, and heard Hermione close on her heels. She found herself quickly catching the three of them. She'd only started running, they must have been running the entire way from the pitch. The gate was looming closer and closer, but Harry wasn't going to make it before the pair of wizards caught him. Unable to think of anything better to do, she pressed herself forward as hard as she could and dove in front of one of the two wizards.

Their legs tangled and he stumbled, flailing his arms and sending them both crashing to the paved ground. As he struck the stone, the first wizard tripped the second, sending him into the rocky ground between the path and the trees. Ginny quickly untwisted herself from the first wizard and climbed to her feet.

Ahead of her, she saw herself stumble as Harry reached the soft turf on the other side of the gate. He hit the ground hard, tumbled once, and then simply disappeared. Ginny felt her stomach leap.

Suddenly, a hand clamped down on her ankle. She looked down and found the Brotherhood wizard she'd tripped snarling at her as he held her in a vicious grip. Panic surged through her and her leg swung on its own, smashing into his face with a sickening _thud_. He let go instantly, and Ginny was suddenly free, only seconds from the gate.

She ignored the pain in her foot, as well as the bruises and scrapes all along her legs and sides, and ran the last short distance to freedom. As she passed the gate, she veered dangerously to the left, concentrated on her destination, and Disapparated.

The moment she appeared in the alley, she felt someone grab her and wrap her in a surprising strong grip, on arm pinning hers to her sides and another pressed tightly against her mouth. She struggled instinctively, unsure of what was happening until she heard a familiar voice, her own voice.

"Stop, stop, I'm sorry! I had to be sure."

Ginny stopped struggling and she was quickly released. She turned and found a rather beat up version of herself panting and staring back at her.

"You know," Harry said between gasps, "you really need to get more exercise."

Ginny closed her eyes and collapsed into him, no longer caring what he looked like. They were safe. Whatever had happened at the pitch, it hadn't gone as badly as Harry said it could. They both caught their breath and made their way across the street to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Ginny sat comfortably in the large chair in the study, sipping on tea and nursing an array of cuts, scrapes and bruises on her legs. It felt nice to be back to her normal self. She only wished that all of her injuries had disappeared with her disguise.

Harry was in the kitchen trying to change back into suitable clothes. He would be changing back into himself in only a few more minutes. Ginny had banished him to the kitchen after she had applied some bandages to three deep cuts he'd gotten after tumbling across the ground.

Ginny heard her own voice echoing through the door to the kitchen, "I don't suppose I could get some help in here?"

"No," she replied coldly. "I've had quite enough of your little jokes for today. You're just going to have to work it out for yourself."

"It's either that or a knife," Harry threatened.

"The knife, then," Ginny shouted back, trying to hide her laughter. "You were right though. I feel much better knowing just how clueless you are about this."

"Thank you," he replied, though he was less successful at hiding his disgust than she had been hiding her amusement. Ginny fetched a book from the shelves behind her and started reading. It really wasn't terribly interesting, but it was less mentally troubling than the thought of Harry changing clothes.

Eventually, Harry limped back into the study looking just as worn out as Ginny, but without her hair, face, or body. He collapsed onto the chair next to her and stared at the empty fireplace in front of them.

"I think Ron believed me," he announced. "At the very least, he convinced those Ministry wizards that I was you. I don't know what Hermione thinks. She must have known something odd was happening."

"I think that's a reasonable assumption," Ginny added.

"Did you learn anything from her? You know, during that time when you were completely ignoring what I'd told you to do and waiting for me to show up?"

"I hadn't ignored you," Ginny replied with as much annoyance as she could gather. "I was having a pleasant chat with a pair of Death Eaters, until Hermione and her friends scared them away."

"Death Eaters?" Harry said, sounding immediately alert. "What did they tell you?"

"They said they want the wand. They thought I was you, so I told them I didn't have it and that they should go bother the Brotherhood. They didn't much care for that answer."

"No, I wouldn't expect they would," Harry commented.

"They said you should get it and give it to them or they'll kill us all. Of course, if you do bring them the wand, they'll only ask Voldemort to save us, so we shouldn't get our hopes up."

Harry didn't respond, and kept staring at the fireplace. "They also said they wanted that ring talisman," she added.

Harry's eyes narrowed in confusion. "They wanted the ring? That doesn't make any sense. Why would they want that?"

"I don't know, Harry. Why would they want the wand? They think that they can resurrect Voldemort with it, but they can't, can they? You can't bring someone back from death. Lupin was positive."

Harry stared down at his arm and traced the faint scar which ran from his wrist to his elbow. "If it wasn't possible, there wouldn't be a spell to do it, would there? They found something. Who knows what's possible? Nothing like Voldemort ever existed in the world. Maybe the spell could work, but they'll never succeed. They need something that contained his soul, but all of the horcruxes are destroyed and there was nothing left of his body. Who knows if any of them would have worked at all? His soul was shattered."

"Why are they looking for the wand then?

"They never had a chance at getting what they needed. It was just a trick the Brotherhood pulled on them. They probably found the spell for them as well. The Brotherhood needed someone to blame all the attacks on, so they convinced the Death Eaters it was possible. The wand doesn't matter. It won't help them."

"Then we should get it, Harry," Ginny said excitedly. "If we _did_ give it to the Death Eaters, they might realize that they've been tricked. I'm not saying they'd be our allies, but it would hurt the Brotherhood. They wouldn't be able to hide behind them, and they'd have another enemy to worry about."

"It's not that easy, Ginny," Harry said with a frown. "There are things you don't understand―"

"Yes, Harry, because _you won't tell me_!" she said angrily. "Why won't you fight this? There is a new Dark Lord out there. He killed Charlie and he's already tried to kill me. How much will it take before you finally end this pointless maneuvering?"

"A little more, I'm afraid," Harry answered. "I'm not in control of this, Ginny. I lost control of it a month ago. All I can do now is try and make sure we all live through the first attack. If I could face him, it could all be over."

"You're certain you could defeat him?"

There was a moment of heavy silence before Harry responded. "No," he finally answered, "not if I have to fight him, and the Brotherhood, and the Ministry and every other wizard he's corrupted. If it were just him and I... yes. Yes, I'm certain I would defeat him. That is the reason why he's hiding and sending the Death Eaters after me. He's afraid of me. He's certain he'd lose."

Harry leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. "But there's no more point in talking about this," he said. "I've talked to Ron. I think he'll do what I told him to do. There's nothing I can do about Hermione ―not until Tuesday. We'll stay here tomorrow, and you'll only have to avoid her for two more days. Then it will be over and we can start telling the Order."

He stood up slowly, and limped over to a cushioned couch. He sat down at one end and gave Ginny a questioning smile. "I've been gone for a long time. All I've thought about is the Brotherhood and Dark Wizards and keeping my friends safe. I want to talk about something else, something happy or funny, or even completely boring. I don't care, just as long as you say it."

Ginny smiled back, and walked over to sit next to him. She leaned her head against his chest, put her hand in his and began talking about anything that entered her mind. She told him about her last year at Hogwarts and all of the things she'd done and all the stories of Harry's friends. They talked well into the night, stopping only to make a brief dinner before returning to the study. As darkness came, they lit the fire and slowly drifted off to sleep together.


	14. An Unexpected Turn of Events

Chapter 14

An Unexpected Turn of Events

Ginny and Harry spent all of Sunday sitting about Number Twelve Grimmauld place. Harry ordered Kreacher to keep well away from them, and he made lunch and dinner while trying to teach Ginny a few of the charms she'd seen him use. Between meals they played a few games of chess and a few more games of Exploding Snap.

Both of them felt a little awkward around each other. They hadn't been together for over a year, and while Harry had been watching Ginny, there was quite a difference between watching Ginny and sitting on the couch with her in an empty house which he now owned.

By some sort of mutual agreement, they kept themselves busy by doing everything but sitting together on the couch. The thought of too much time spent like that still felt a little uncomfortable to Ginny. Harry seemed to have come to the same conclusion, without either of them saying a single word in discussion. For now, it was enough that they were together, talking, laughing and keeping each other company. Slowly, the comfort returned, and by Sunday night, they were together on the couch again, doing little more than watching a pair of candles burn silently.

"What are we going to do now, Harry?"

Harry sighed and laid back. They could only ignore the world for so long. "You're going to go to work, and I'm going to send a message off to the goblins."

"I was asking on a more general level," she clarified. "Am I supposed to pretend that you're still gone? If I see Hermione, am I supposed to pretend that I'm still a wreck? It's hard enough to keep secrets. How long am I going to have to lie to everyone? How long do I have to keep you hidden?"

"As long as we can," Harry replied in a tired voice. "I― There are things that I still don't understand. Until I have a better idea of exactly what we're facing, I think it's better if everyone thinks I'm still gone." Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "That doesn't mean that I won't tell Ron and Hermione. I think Ron believed me. Hermione will, too, once I'm able to speak with her. After that, we'll find a way to tell Lupin and your parents ―just not yet."

"What about Hermione?" Ginny asked. "If Ron knows, won't he tell Hermione?"

"I hope not. I told him not to, and I'd hope you'd do the same. Hermione is in a lot of danger right now. I think she knows too much already, and the new Dark Lord may not like the idea of her talking with me. If he gets any hint of what I plan to do, she― she might not be as lucky as you were."

"What about Tarus?" she asked. "Couldn't he help us? He's been able to manipulate the Ministry twice now. Maybe he could help us tell Hermione, or others."

"No―" Harry said suddenly, "―no, it's not safe. Remember, he's surrounded by the Brotherhood at all times. Treat any message you send to him as if you expect them to read it. I'd prefer you not send any message at all. There are too many things you still don't understand about the Brotherhood. Your new title will be more useful, eventually. For now, use it just the way Tarus intended: as a shield to keep you safe from prying questions. A Liaison was never meant to be a spy, and he should not be expecting you to share secrets with him."

Ginny nodded and tried to push the thoughts from her head. It was just the way she expected. She wanted to push him for a better reason why it had to be that way, but she didn't want to ruin the little bit of peace they'd found that night. So, she took a deep breath, and told herself to trust Harry. She'd done alright with that strategy so far.

Monday was much more boring than Ginny had expected. She sat in her new office and read through stacks of books and rolls of parchment that Harrington had delivered to her. He'd made it clear that she would still have normal duties in the department, but that she'd be allowed some freedom in how she spent her time in order to see that any work Tarus gave her was done as well.

For now, neither Harrington nor Tarus had given her anything at all to do, so she was left to her reading, which was far from interesting. She'd combed through it looking for any mention of the Brotherhood of the Sacred Balance, but found nothing. Perhaps if she could read Romanian she might have had better luck.

It had taken her hours to realize that 'Oras-maijos' was the true name of the castle Tarus had taken her to. That meant that 'Oras-maisus' was the surrounding city. Those names had come up often enough, but there was little more about their history than Tarus had told her himself. Certainly there was no mention of any secret cults living within either of them.

When the end of the day finally came, she piled all of the books onto a single shelf of one of her empty bookcases, and stacked the parchment neatly on her desk. After closing and locking her door, she walked down the corridor and past Evelyn's office, being certain to ignore her as completely as possible. The first lift to arrive was already packed with wizards leaving for the day, so she waited and took the second.

The doors of the lift opened and Ginny joined the other occupants as they poured out into the small lobby. There was a slight fluttering in her stomach. In just a few moments, she'd be returning to Harry. Somehow that thought was very encouraging, and she fought the urge to smile as she walked through the same golden gates which used to haunt her dreams.

However, the moment the crowd began to disperse, Ginny saw something that drained all the happiness from her. Standing not far from her was the same Brotherhood wizard who'd met her when she had shown up on Friday morning. He didn't make any moves toward her or signal her in any way, but his expression held a passive challenge. Before she knew what she was doing, she was striding toward him.

"Why are you following me?" she asked in a quiet voice.

The wizard's expression broke into one of confusion. "Following you?" he said. "I was simply waiting here. You were the one to approach me."

"Right, and you just happened to be waiting here Friday morning, and again Friday evening?" Ginny pressed. "What about when I arrived this morning? Where were you then?"

"I don't think I know," the wizard replied, behind a faint smile. "Am I to assume that you arrived at the same time as the rest of these wizards? Even if that were the case, I could not say where I was. I do not know their habits any more than I know yours. I don't even know who you are."

"You know very well who I am," Ginny hissed.

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do," she argued with growing annoyance.

"Are you someone important, then?" the wizard asked with grating cheerfulness. "Have we met at some official function? Or do we perhaps share some... _common acquaintance_ who might be better known?"

Ginny scowled at him. She was right. He was a Brotherhood wizard. He was toying with her. They were watching her and waiting for her to do something that would give away the information they wanted. She decided that she wasn't going to help them do that. She couldn't stop them, but she could make them work a little harder than simply standing outside the gates and waiting for her to leave every day.

Ginny turned and marched toward the security wizard at the desk. She had to tap on the desk to get his attention, but once she had, she quickly informed him that the wizard she'd been talking to was not a Ministry employee or guest and that he'd been following her for some time. Looking more harassed than worried, the guard wizard stood up and followed her back to the other wizard.

"I'm sorry, sir, but this hall is for Ministry employees and their guests," he said in a tired voice. "There's no loitering. If you don't have any business here today, you'll have to move along."

"But I do have business," the Brotherhood wizard said.

"He's lying," Ginny snapped.

He glared at her. "I beg your pardon. I don't believe I've even told you my name, much less my business here."

"I don't know who he is, but he's following me," Ginny announced.

The guard rolled his eyes in boredom, and continued in the same monotone, "If you have business here, sir, I would ask you to tell me what it is, and I shall leave you to it."

"I am here as a guest of the Department of Mysteries."

"Prove it!"

"I can no more prove my business here than you can prove I have none," he replied. "The nature of my business is private, and I have been instructed to tell no one of it, least of all nosy witches who accost me without reason."

"And is there a wizard who might vouch for this story?" the guard asked.

"I do not know a name," the other wizard said with a smile. "That is the nature of the Department of Mysteries. Perhaps you could ask the Head of the Department. Reynard is his name, if I remember."

"Reynard, eh?" the guard commented. "I haven't heard of any guests for the Department of Mysteries scheduled this evening."

"Oh, you wouldn't," the wizard said with a smile. "I came in early this morning. I was sent out while they spoke privately. Since it is the Department of Mysteries, I can only assume whatever they reasons might be, they are rather mysterious."

"And can you prove that you've been to the Department of Mysteries today?" the guard asked lazily.

"No," the wizard replied, smiling again, "but she can." He raised an arm to point at the gate leading to the lifts. Ginny turned and felt her stomach drop as Hermione stared back at them.

The guard motioned for Hermione to join them, and she did, though somewhat reluctantly. "Excuse me, Miss, but would you be willing to swear that this wizard has business with the Department of Mysteries?"

Hermione frowned. "Yes," she said in a hollow voice.

"And you can verify that he was admitted to the Department earlier this day?"

"Yes."

"Very well," the guard said with a deep sigh. He turned to the other wizard and bowed slightly, saying, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, sir. I am simply doing my job."

"And doing it very well, I should think," the wizard replied cheerily. "It was no bother at all."

The guard then turned to face Ginny. "Are you satisfied, now? He's got more business being here than you do, I'd guess. If I were you, I'd be home by now. You should be happy you can leave. I'll be here for the next six hours."

Ginny stared at Hermione, then the other two wizards. She felt her chest tightening. Not only had he won, he'd made a fool of her. She turned and walked away. Only seconds after she left, she heard Hermione running after her and calling for her to stop. Ginny ignored her. She couldn't talk to her even if she had wanted to. At the moment, she just wanted to leave. She knew it had been stupid, and she didn't need Hermione to explain it to her for the next ten minutes. Without looking behind her, she Disapparated.

After Apparating to the dark alley across from Number Twelve, Ginny took a moment to catch her breath and scold herself for being so foolish. When she was done, she composed herself and stepped out onto the street.

"Ginny!" a voice called from behind her. "I have to talk with you!"

Ginny looked over her shoulder and found Hermione jogging to catch up with her. Ginny shouted back, "I said I can't talk to you."

"I said the same thing to you, but things changed and I told you what you needed to know."

"That's great, but things haven't changed enough for me to talk to you."

"Haven't they?" Hermione asked. "How do you know?"

Ginny stopped in the middle of the street and turned on Hermione. "_I know_, alright?"

"Won't you even listen to what I have to say?" Hermione begged.

Ginny stared at her friend. Harry had said she had to wait until Tuesday, but maybe this would work just as good as whatever he had planned for tomorrow. "Alright," she agreed. "I'll listen to what you've got to say, but you'll have to say it to me in there," she added with a nod toward the house. Hermione said nothing and started walking toward Number Twelve.

Once they were inside the house, Ginny quickly slipped past Hermione and led the way to the kitchen. If Harry was there, she wanted to be able to give him some warning. Hermione followed her, sending the echoes of a second set of shoes ahead of her. When Ginny opened the door to the kitchen, she found the torches lit, and a single cup of tea sitting on the table. Harry had been there recently, but there was no sign of him now. Had he left?

When Hermione walked into the room, her eyes found the cup immediately. She froze and began looking about the room suspiciously. "Who else is here?" she asked.

For a moment, Ginny considered telling her, but she stopped herself. _Harry knows what he's doing,_ she reminded herself. Instead, she stared back innocently, and replied, "You think there's someone here?"

Hermione walked over to the cup of tea and picked it up. "This cup of tea is warm, Ginny."

Ginny's mind raced. She feigned embarrassment and walked toward Hermione. "I've been trying out some new charms," she offered.

Hermione looked at the cup for a second before putting it to her mouth and taking a sip. She recoiled after the first sip and quickly put the cup back on the table. "Keep trying," she said with a sour look. "I'm sure you'll get it eventually."

Ginny ignored the comment. "So what is it that you want me to hear?" she asked.

"Why were you trying to get that wizard in trouble?" Hermione responded.

"That's a question. You said you wanted to _tell_ me something, not _ask_ me something."

"Yes," Hermione said coolly, "and I'll tell you something when you answer that question." She crossed her arms over her chest, adding, "And don't try to refuse based on your Liaison status. This happened in London, not Romania and that wizard is no more Romanian than I am."

Ginny crossed her arm as well, and answered, "He's one of them, Hermione. He works for the Brotherhood."

"Yes, I already know that. Why did you confront him?"

"I'm tired of being watched," Ginny replied with a touch of anger. "I'm tired of seeing them following me everywhere I go, and I'm tired of waiting for them to make the first move. If he was there to meet a Ministry official, then I'm a garden gnome."

"He was there to meet with _me_, Ginny," Hermione said. Ginny stared at her in stunned silence as Hermione continued. "He had a tip about the Death Eaters. He came to tell my boss, Randolf, about something he'd overheard at a Quidditch match. Randolf called me in to hear it as well. He spoke to us for quite a while, then Randolf sent him out of the Department while we talked together. He told him to wait because Reynard heard about it and he wants to speak with him as well. When you showed up, he was still waiting for Reynard to call for him."

"No, it's more than that," Ginny insisted. "He's following me. He's one of them."

"We know that, Ginny. That's why we were willing to listen to him. Their tips have always been correct."

"Fine, listen to them if you want, but that still doesn't explain why you're here now."

Hermione sat down and took a deep breath. "We haven't gotten a tip from them in months, not since the attack on the Ministry. A few weeks ago, Henri D'Anneau was murdered, and everyone thought his wife had been as well. Days later, her brother was found dead. When she suddenly reappeared, she attacked a pair of guards before being dragged off to prison where she was murdered in the night. One of her sisters was found dead, and the other hasn't been found at all.

"By all accounts, you were the last person she spoke to, and she was trying to stop you from doing something. Whatever it was, it didn't stop you from running off to Romania, where you disappeared for half a day, only to mysteriously slip out of the country during the middle of a Brotherhood attack on a Romanian Ministry building. You're the only one who seems to know what's going on, but you can't talk about it because you're the first official Liaison Britain has seen in eighty years."

Ginny looked down at her hands. "Just because we're here doesn't mean I can tell you about any of―"

"Most people would be happy to be alive, and would take a well deserved holiday, but not you. The _very next day_ you go to a Quidditch match and after talking to your brother for only a few seconds, he sends me a message saying he's in danger. Two minutes later, he tells me that he's just fine, but that there are Death Eaters on the path. As soon as the Unspeakables leave, you run for the gate yourself, with another pair of wizards on your heels. If that wasn't enough, on your way, a witch who had just been tossed about by a pair of Death Eaters trips up the wizards chasing you, and then disappears just as quickly."

Ginny paused for a moment to wonder just how Harry had known about the Death Eaters. He couldn't have. Even if the Unspeakables had run the entire way, they would have taken off before Ginny had reached the pair of Death Eaters. It must have just been a guess, or a lucky coincidence.

"I can't explain any of that, Hermione," she said. "I'm just as confused about this as you are."

"I don't believe you," she replied. "How did you know the Death Eaters were there? Who was that witch who saved you?"

"I don't know!" Ginny said firmly.

Hermione glared back at her in confusion. "You don't know? You― How couldn't you?" she asked in frustration. "Something is going on, Ginny. All of these things are happening too quickly. It's not normal. It's not a coincidence. It's not _safe._ Ron knows something, but he won't tell me. I don't know why he won't, but you have to. _I must know_ what's happening, Ginny. It doesn't matter how dangerous it is anymore."

"I'm telling you, Hermione, _I don't know_," Ginny insisted. "After all that's happened to me, what could make you think that I would be the one who knows what's going on, or that Ron would tell me when he won't tell you?"

"Ginny! I don't―" Her voice cut out as she stood and shook with restrained rage. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. When she spoke again, it was forced and uneven, failing to hide a panic in her voice.

"Ginny... I don't have time for this right now," she said as she stepped closer. "I― I have to know. You have to tell me."

The desperation in her voice was unnerving, and Ginny began straining to hear the faintest sound that might tell her if Harry was in the house. _Why couldn't he be here?_ she asked herself, _If he were here, this could all be over._ Hermione stepped closer, and Ginny realized that she didn't have a choice.

_Trust Harry._

"I wish I could tell you," she said, "but I just don't know."

Hermione lunged forward and grabbed Ginny's shoulders. "I _watched you tell him,_ Ginny!" she shouted. "Don't try and tell me that you don't know what he won't tell me. You were the one who told him not to tell me about it."

Ginny felt her throat tightening. How was she supposed to explain that? She didn't even know that Hermione had seen Harry and Ron talking. She looked into Hermione's eyes, and tried to find some way to explain.

"I don't know, Hermione. There are things I can't tell you, but I don't know the answers you want right now. You'll get your answers, I promise, but not today. Maybe I'll have them tomorrow. Don't worry about them. Go home. Relax. Get a good night's rest and go to work tomorrow. I'm sure everything will work out."

"If only it were that easy," Hermione said as she wiped her eyes. "I wish I could do just that, but it's not going to happen."

"What are you talking about?"

"I won't be going home tonight," Hermione explained. "I'm supposed to be packing right now."

"Packing? For what?"

"I'm going to Albania to investigate a recent Death Eater sighting," she said. "The wizard you were so interested in told us that they have a castle there where they've been meeting. Randolph and I will be going there to see what we can learn."

Ginny panicked. "No!" she shouted. "You can't go! It's a trap! The Brotherhood is―" Suddenly, she felt a strong hand clamp around her upper arm. Her head jerked down to look, but there was nothing there.

Nothing visible at least.

Harry was in the room. He must have slipped under his Invisibility Cloak when they came in. What was he trying to tell her? Slowly his grip loosened.

"Yes?" Hermione prompted. "The Brotherhood is... what?"

"They are―" Ginny paused again as Harry's hand squeezed again. He didn't want her to say anything. Ginny stared at Hermione, wishing she could apologize, but unable to ignore Harry's demands. "They can't be trusted," she said in a defeated tone.

The grip on Ginny's arm disappeared, and Hermione's face fell. "I know," she said slowly. She walked toward the door and opened it, but paused before leaving. "Something is happening, Ginny," she said in a sad voice. "I think you know what it is, but I don't think you know just how far it's gotten."

"It's starting," she said, as if she were pleading for Ginny to change her mind. "It's starting right now. I don't know how or why, but everything revolves around you. All paths lead to you, and if you don't know what it is or how to stop it, then we're all doomed."

"Hermione, please," Ginny begged, "there has to be some way for you to stay. Even for just one more day."

"It's too late," Hermione replied in an empty monotone. "Reynard gave the order. If I refuse, he'll get the Minister to step in. Is it so bad that I'm better off spending the rest of my life in Azkaban?"

"I― I don't know."

Hermione frowned and began walking away. Before letting the door close, she looked back over her shoulder. "I hope you figure it out soon. I don't know how much more time we've got. Goodbye, Ginny. You've always been a good friend."

The door closed and Ginny felt her legs getting weak. She stumbled over to an empty chair and sat down heavily. She heard Hermione's shoes walking down the corridor, and the sound of the front door opening, and then closing.

Hermione was gone.

Another sound cut through the air, a sharp rustling of cloth. An instant later, Harry was striding across the kitchen toward the table. With a shout he swept the cup of tea off the table and threw it into the fire. It struck the hot brick with an explosion of porcelain shards and acrid steam. Harry crouched down on the floor and buried his face in his hands.

"It's not possible!" he shouted. "Not again! Not her! I was so close. I couldn't have done it any faster."

Ginny stared worriedly at him. "They know, don't they?" she asked. "They knew what you were going to do."

"Do they know?" Harry asked himself. "No, I don't think so. They didn't need to know what I had planned. They only needed to know that I had to be planning something. They knew the Ministry was watching Hermione. They were giving me a choice: show myself to the Ministry or let them get to Hermione first. I thought I could make a third option, but they were prepared for that."

"What's going to happen? They're not going to― I mean, she's no different than me now, right? If they kill her, it would start the war."

Harry stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes. That's right, but she's not like you. I think they've always meant to keep you alive. I'm not sure why. They've never shown any such plans for Hermione. I think they'd kill her just to start the war."

Ginny felt the blood draining from her face. Hermione knew. She knew what the Brotherhood had planned. "We have to save her, Harry, even if you have to walk right into the Minister's office. I haven't forgotten what you told me, but if we don't they'll kill her."

"So what do you propose?" he challenged. "If I walk into the Ministry and demand twenty of their best Aurors, you know what will happen? They'll give them to me. And while I'm leading Potter's Army, they'll kill Lupin, or Bill, or your parents. Is that what Hermione would want? What if it was Ron? Would she trade her life for his?"

"Lupin and the rest can hide at Hogwarts, and we'll take Ron with us."

"Then that's how the war will start," Harry said as he stared into the fire, "with us hiding in caves and huddling together while they walk about freely, killing those who are still running for shelter. No, there has to be another way."

"What other way, Harry?" Ginny shouted. "You said it yourself: They're going to kill Hermione."

"No," he said firmly, "they're not."

"What?"

"I'm not going to let it happen, Ginny. I'm going to stop it."

"How are we going to do that?"

"No, _we_ aren't doing anything," he told her. "You need to stay here. You need to act as if nothing is happening. You'll be in enough danger without me here to keep an eye on you. I need you to keep as quiet as you can. Do nothing that will attract any attention."

"So you're going to leave me again?" she snapped. "You'll run off to fight your little war, and I'm supposed to sit here and wait for you to return, if you do return?"

Harry walked back over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "That's not how it is. This has grown too big for just me. I need help. I need _your_ help. They are going to watch you to figure out what I'm doing. If you appear to be doing nothing, they won't be able to tell what I'm doing."

"That still leaves me doing nothing."

"I have other things for you to do. As quietly as you can, I need you to start looking for information. I need to know who the Brotherhood of the Sacred Balance is. I can't do that. Only someone inside the Ministry can. It was supposed to be Hermione, but there won't be any time. I know they have some link to Egypt, and another to London, but I don't know what it is. See what you can find out, but don't tell _anyone._ Not Harrington. Not Tarus. Not even Ron or Lupin. _No one_. Make it look like you are researching Romania."

"That's it? You want me to read books?"

"There's one more thing," Harry said, looking a little troubled. "I'm short on a number of... supplies. I just put in an order with the goblins, but I can't wait until tomorrow. I need them tonight."

"You want me to go shopping for you?" Ginny asked sourly.

"No, I need you to help me nick some things from a shop." Ginny's jaw dropped in shock, and Harry stepped toward her and spoke in a voice he meant to be reassuring. "I'm sure if they knew it was me they wouldn't mind. I mean, I'd pay them if I could, but it wouldn't really look like theft, then would it?"

"No, then it would look like you were actually honest," Ginny scolded him.

"I've already paid for them. It's not really even theft. It's more like... an unannounced delivery." When the expression on Ginny's face didn't change, he tried something different. "If I don't do it, I won't have any chance to save Hermione."

Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine. Just which shop are we supposed to be breaking into?"

"Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes."

"What? You want to break into Fred and George's shop?" Ginny exclaimed.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Harry countered. "Walk in and ask for it? Maybe I could send you and you could try to explain why they should give you the things that the goblins paid them an extra forty Galleons to make by tomorrow morning?"

Ginny began to see the problem. She suggested that he at least find some way to tell Fred and George not to worry about the stolen merchandise, but Harry reminded her that it was rather uncommon for thieves to do such things.

After a little more explaining, Ginny accepted that a little bit of theft really was the best solution in their current situation. Despite Harry's earlier urgency, they remained in the house, eating dinner and waiting for all the shops in Diagon Alley to close for the night.

Once Harry had decided that it was late enough, he got up and unlocked his cabinet to pull out a long cloak and long piece of black cloth like a scarf. Ginny watched in fascination as he put on the cloak and began wrapping the cloth around his neck and the lower part of his face, mostly obscuring his face.

"So it was you at Giza?" Ginny asked, as he reached into the cabinet she used and fished out a black cloak for her, too.

"Yes," Harry answered in a muffled voice. "I had a bruise on my stomach for days after that."

She took the cloak and wrapped it around herself. "I was so certain you were the Dark Lord," she told him. "If I'd gotten the chance, I would have done more than bruise your stomach. All I could think was that you were the one who'd killed Charlie. I― I'm glad I didn't, now."

"Me, too," Harry said quietly. He pulled his hood up, and all Ginny was able to see was the faint twinkle from a pair of eyes in the shadow.

Once she'd finished tying the cloak and pulling up her own hood, Harry turned and led her out of the house. He seemed to exhibit all of the urgency which he'd shown earlier that night. Ginny wanted to ask why he needed to leave that night, instead of waiting twelve more hours and getting everything in a much safer manner. However, Harry didn't seem to be in a very talkative mood anymore, so she simply followed him as they walked across the street to the Disapparation point.

"We're Disapparating?" she asked. "You know they still have the wards around Diagon Alley? The closest we can get is The Leaky Cauldron. It's not an easy place to sneak away from, and there's usually an Auror watching it. They won't like you dressed like that. You're going to need your Invisibility Cloak."

"We're not going to the Leaky Cauldron," Harry told her. "We're going to your brothers' shop."

"That's not going to work either, Harry. They've put up their own wards. They're a little less friendly than most."

"Yes, but they didn't get theirs checked by Aurors," Harry said. "I'll need you to focus on their flat above the shop," he told her, "―not the shop itself, it has to be the flat."

"I've already tried that, Harry," she said. "It won't work. It just―"

"―tosses you into the middle of Diagon Alley, far from any Aurors," Harry finished for her.

Ginny stopped and thought for a moment. He could be right. How could they miss something so important? Their plan to pull a prank on wizards who tried to sneak into their shop had created a dangerous hole in Diagon Alley's security.

"I'll go first," Harry said. "Count to ten and then Disapparate. Oh, and you might want to cover your head with your arms." An instant later her was gone. Ginny counted silently. She finished, covered her head, and Disapparated.

Much like the last time she tried, she felt the unnerving sensation of falling, followed by something striking her back. This time, however, it wasn't nearly so hard. She found herself bouncing slightly, then coming to a rest on the ground with Harry standing over her, his wand drawn. She rolled over and as she pushed herself onto her feet, she found that the ground actually felt soft and spongy.

"Thanks," said Ginny. "You're alright?"

"Yeah, I've done it so often it doesn't really hurt anymore," he replied. He led her over to the front of the shop. Through the windows they could see Fred sitting at the counter, looking through a stack of parchment. Harry didn't appear fooled, but he wasn't really making any other move. Ginny gave him an expectant look.

"Don't look at me," he said defensively. "I brought you here because I thought you'd know how to get in. I can break in easily enough, but I've always needed at least one Shield Cloak. I used my last one smuggling Sophie to Canada. Can you get us in without one?"

Ginny tried to remember her last visit. If they hadn't changed anything, it should be easy enough. Harry followed her to the narrow alleyway, then along it to the back door to the shop. Ginny climbed the stairs carefully, leaving Harry to watch from behind her. She pulled out her wand and tapped the hinges of the door.

The door quickly swung open silently and Harry quickly stepped forward. Ginny's arm shot out, stopping him. She waited a few more seconds until there was a faint red flash from the door, then she released Harry. He gave her a thankful look and walked through the door a little more carefully. Once they were in the room, Ginny quickly but cautiously made her way to a corner and sat down on the floor. Harry gave her a quizzical look.

"Traps," she whispered. "I'll be safe, even if you aren't."

Harry nodded and began quietly rifling through the shelves and cabinets in the room. It became obvious fairly quickly that he was going to take a little more than he'd paid for. When Ginny asked him about it, he stopped her and explained that the things he'd asked for were supposed to be for sneaking about London, not chasing Hermione across Albania.

Ginny sat in the corner with her wand ready and watch as Harry stuffed a bag with a bizarre collection of things. He grabbed a few small pouches of Instant Darkness Powder as well as a small box labeled 'Miniature Tangleweed'. He opened another cabinet and grabbed a number of small jars containing brightly colored potions. He grabbed a Shield cloak and wrapped each of them into the fabric before slipping them into the bag.

He paused as he turned away, and reached for something on one of the nearby shelves. In the dim light, Ginny could faintly make out the shape of a wand in Harry's hand. He stared at it for a moment, then pocketed it and another one from the same shelf.

Seemingly satisfied, he turned away and walked toward the wall holding the Shield Cloaks and Shied Hats. On the end was a pack of cloaks under a sign which read 'Gringott's Orders Only'. Harry grabbed a number of them, and folded them into the bag. Then he started rifling through the other stack. He grabbed three of the smaller cloaks and tossed them to Ginny.

"Those are for you. I'll get you more later."

"What are you doing?" Ginny hissed. "The cloaks at the end are the ones you wanted!"

"I know," Harry replied in a whisper, "but it'd look pretty suspicious if those were the only one's that disappeared, wouldn't it? Plus, Fred and George would be pretty upset when Grimbok comes by and asks for all the cloaks I had stolen."

Ginny perked up at the mention of the name, and asked Harry about it. "Yes, Grimbok does quite a few favors for me, and Gringott's is paid well for it. I've found an... alternate source of wealth recently and they are happy to do all sorts of things in order to get a piece of it." He tossed another cloak into his bag, then walked away from the rack. "And yes, I did ask that you be sent to him if you came in. However, he was ordered not to reveal any information about me unless you specifically asked."

"That's why he was acting strange," Ginny said. "I guess I figured goblins were just strange."

"They are," Harry said in agreement, "but they are also very businesslike, and they are completely trustworthy, if that's what you're paying them to be."

"So, if you have all that money, why are you still sneaking about, nicking things from my brothers' shop?"

"I buy what I need whenever possible," he said as he grabbed a handful of sweets from a box. "If I had the goblin's do it all, there's a chance that Fred and George would start guessing about what was going on. So I have the goblin's pay them extremely well, and I sneak in to take whatever else I need. I assure you, I've more than paid for the things I've taken and if they knew it was me, they'd have given them to me without a single Galleon in return."

"Still, there has to be a more honest way than this?" she argued.

"Maybe," he replied with a smile. "I think I've actually started to enjoy it. Almost as if it were a game. I first got the idea by watching the local boys breaking in to make off with the pranks their parents would never let them buy. After the first few times, it became more interesting. After facing the Brotherhood and knowing what they'd do if they caught me, the idea of stealing from Fred and George became, well... fun. If they ever caught me, I knew they wouldn't turn me in. Doing this became almost relaxing."

He walked over to a table and scanned the contents. "I've had a few close calls, and at times I've wondered if they still think it's the local children, but they've never called the Aurors. That's why I take more than I need. I'm just trying to keep up the appearance that I'm here for pranks, not equipment. Though―" he paused to stare at the table, "―another robe wouldn't be a bad idea. It should've been the first I grabbed."

Ginny craned her neck to look at the table. She could see a long cloak hanging off the table. The cloth nearly reached the ground. It was much easier to see than the others because of a thin strip of gold trim running along the edge.

"NO!" Ginny shouted as she leaped out of the corner. With Harry's hand only inches from the cloak, she slammed into him, knocking him off his feet and sending them both tumbling to the ground. Harry landed on top of Ginny, knocking her breath from her lungs, then rolled off, hitting the base of a large set of shelves.

Ginny watched in horror as dozens of things tumbled from the shelves, falling down around Harry. He covered his face, but that wouldn't solve their new problem. Among the objects which had fallen were a number of things that had broken and were now emitting a harsh orchestra of whining, wailing and screeching noises.

Harry and Ginny sprung to their feet, understanding the danger immediately. They had only seconds until Fred and George would come running down the stairs. Ginny scrambled to her feet and stepped through the fallen items on her way to the back door. She tapped the hinges of the door and stepped out of the way as the door swung inward. As they both waited for the red flash which would signal that it was safe to leave, she heard the unmistakable sound of two wizards running down the stairs.

The footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs. There was no more time. Harry jumped across the room, and snatched a pouch from one of the shelves. Just as the door opened, he tossed it to the ground. Almost instantly, it exploded, filling the room with a thick black smoke which was impossible to see through.

It must have been the Instant Darkness Powder. Ginny saw a faint flash of red light in front of her, and heard a pair of footsteps approaching her slowly. Fred and George were shouting, and Ginny felt hot sparks fly over her shoulder. She took a step away from the door and reached into the inky darkness. A second later, she felt a soft cloak: Harry. She held on, and tugged him toward the door. They stumbled down the steps and turned the corner into the narrow alley, which, by comparison was almost bright.

Harry didn't stop. He pulled Ginny's hood over her hair and pulled her into the street. They turned and ran as quickly as they could, not toward the Leaky Cauldron, but in the direction of Knockturn Alley. Harry ducked into another alley and crouched down in the shadows. Ginny kneeled beside him. She opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. A moment later, she knew why.

Fred was walking down the street, his wand out and a angry scowl on his face. A minute later, he passed by again, walking back to the shop. Once the sound of his footsteps had died off, Harry relaxed and stood up.

"We could have told them, you know," Ginny said, panting.

"Yes."

"That _was_ fun, though," Ginny admitted with a smile.

"It really is, isn't it?"

Slowly, Harry looked out into the street. It was mostly empty and he motioned for Ginny to come out as well. "I want you to go back to Grimmauld Place," he told her. "Disapparate from the Leaky Cauldron. Don't go in. Don't stop at your brothers' place. Don't talk to anyone, and try not to let anyone recognize you. I'll be taking the Floo from Knockturn Alley."

"How long are you going to be gone?" she asked.

"Not long, I hope. No later than Saturday, I think, and I might return as quickly as Wednesday, but don't worry about me. Just do what you do. See if you can find out about the Brotherhood. When I return, I'll wait for you at home, alright?"

Ginny nodded. Harry stared at her for a moment, then quickly reached up to his face, and pulled his scarf down to his chin. He quickly leaned forward and gave Ginny one last kiss. With a nod, he pulled the cloth back over his face and walked away.

Ginny did as he had told her, and the next day she returned to the Ministry and tried to act as if nothing had happened the night before. The same Brotherhood wizard was waiting outside the gate to the lifts, but this time Ginny simply ignored him. She wondered if that in itself was more suspicious than confronting him, but she had decided to stop trying to guess what the best course of action was. It wasn't possible when she barely knew half of what was going on.

When she returned some of the books she'd been given on Romania, she took the opportunity to search around for other books or notes which might talk about dark wizard societies or any links Romania might have with Egypt and London.

There truly wasn't much to find, and after a few hours of searching she was forced to give up. She'd looked through so many books that the Ministry librarian was beginning to glare at the pile they had formed. She'd found no hint of the Brotherhood. She found eight different versions of the story Tarus had told her of the origin of the city she'd visited, but none of them ever spoke about some club of wizards that lived there.

She'd found quite a few links between Romania, London and Egypt, but none of them were terribly interesting either. They had all been ancient centers of wizardry, but there were hundreds of such places in the world. They had all been quarter-finalists in the 1872 Quidditch World Cup (though Italy won in the Final). There was even a German wizard who had been married three times, to three witches from each location (each had died in tragic gardening accidents). Ginny had been hopeful when she ran across a description of an ancient society of historians who had members in all three locations, but gave up after realizing that they must have been the most worthless historians in the world. They hadn't even been able to record their own history, much less anything about the world around them.

As she returned home that night, she began to think that there truly wasn't anything to be found about the Brotherhood, and that Harry had only told her to look as a way to distract her from the fact that he'd left her again.

The next day, she returned and continued her search, but with much less urgency. It simply didn't seem worth the effort. If there had been any record of the Brotherhood, they would have destroyed it. A secret society wouldn't stay a secret for very long if they were described in loads of books.

Ginny had quickly slipped into extreme boredom as she paged through tome after tome of dry, uninteresting script talking endlessly about the political scandals of the nineteenth century and how new advances in magic were undermining the integrity and honor of a classical training in wizardry. She had nearly fallen asleep when she heard a sharp knock at her door. When she opened it, she nearly choked.

"Good afternoon, Miss Weasley," the Minister said. "I'm glad I caught you before you left for the day. Do you have a moment to talk?"

Ginny nodded and motioned for him to enter and closed the door behind him. There was something daunting about the idea that she was someone the Minister would ask to speak to. Scrimgeour walked in and slowly sat down across from Ginny's desk. Feeling slightly unsure of just what was expected of her, Ginny took her seat behind the desk, and waited for the Minister to speak.

"As you might have guessed, I'm here about this Auror business," he said rather casually. "I've met this Tarus, and he seems like a pretty clever man, so he must know that thirty is simply too many Aurors for us to pull together in a short period of time. In a year, we _might_ be able to do something like that, but there's no way I could ever guarantee it in just eight months or so."

Ginny nodded, unsure of what she was supposed to say.

"I mean, the number itself is almost absurd. What threat could he be worried about that would require that many wizards?" he asked, then paused as if expecting Ginny to offer an explanation. When she didn't, he continued as if it hadn't happened. "If there truly is such a threat, then I'd like to know what it is now." He stopped talking and stared at Ginny much more intently.

"I could... ask him for you?" she finally offered. She didn't need reminders from Tarus or Harry to be cautious with Scrimgeour.

"What an excellent idea," the Minister said with a smile. "While you're there, you can speak to him about this impractical number of Aurors he's asking for. I trust―"

"Hold on," Ginny interrupted. "_While I'm there_? Where am I going to be?"

"Well, Romania, of course," Scrimgeour replied. "I spoke with the former delegates, and they said you were actually rather imposing in person. Which I was happy to hear, since Tarus is rather difficult to work with through the post." He paused to notice the look on Ginny's face, then said, "You didn't honestly expect me to go speak with him? Romania's not the safest place at the moment."

"I know that," Ginny replied carefully. "I'd rather stay in London, if it's all the same. I don't mind sending messages with owls at all."

"If you didn't want to travel, I'd say you made a pretty poor choice of department and position in the Ministry," he said with a little condescension. "You didn't think that a Liaison just sat around reading books, did you?"

"Fine," she said, "I'll see what I can arrange for next Monday."

"I've already set it up for tomorrow," Scrimgeour said nonchalantly. "He said he was busy, but that he wouldn't turn you away. He'll be sending a Portkey tomorrow. You'll arrive there, spend the night, and speak with him early the next morning. You should return back here with plenty of time to tell me how it went."

"Tomorrow?" Ginny exclaimed. "No. I can't. It has to be next week."

"Oh no, that won't do at all," he said almost flippantly. "Don't worry, Miss Weasley. You had much less time to prepare for your trip to Giza, and I heard you did splendidly." He flashed a bright smile at her, then leaned forward and continued in a lower voice, "However, as I was about to say earlier, I trust that you will remember just where you're from. You are a British witch first, and a Romanian Liaison second. I'm not sending you there so I can hear you spout Tarus's words when you return. You need to make him understand that we simply will not be able to do what he's asking."

Ginny nodded numbly. There was no time to prepare. In a day, she'd be back in Romania. She had no way of contacting Harry. What if he returned and couldn't find her? What would he do? What would she do if the Brotherhood attacked her again? Though she hadn't known it at the time, she'd always had help from Harry, and now he was a thousand miles away, trying to save Hermione.

She barely remembered saying goodbye to the Minister. For almost an hour after he left, she did nothing more than sit at her desk, trying to find some way to prevent this from becoming a disaster. If she left a note at Grimmauld Place, there would be a chance that someone else might see it. If she sent an owl, it might put him in even more danger. Maybe Tarus himself could help her. Could she trust him enough to find a way to return to London and make sure that Harry wasn't doing anything foolish? He might be her only chance.

She left the Ministry with her mind clouded by a hundred different ways things could go horribly wrong. She needed to think, but it was impossible. What she really needed was some way to relax and clear her mind. Harry had told her that she should always go straight home, but he hadn't planned for this. Ginny walked right past the Brotherhood wizard sitting on the rim of the fountain, focused, then Disapparated.

She walked into the Leaky Cauldron and returned a distracted greeting to Tom the bartender, completely ignoring the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ he'd set on the bar for her. She walked straight for the other end of the bar, the end where Albert sat on his stool, slowly pouring liquid into his glass and watching the rings of ripples echo across the surface.

Ginny sat down next to him and collapsed forward, covering her face with her hands. For all she could tell, Albert hadn't even noticed. His glass must have been full, because he was now tapping it lightly, making it ring almost musically.

"Haven't seen you around for a while," he commented. "Must've had quite a day to bring you back."

"Not today," Ginny said. "Tomorrow I'm going to meet with the Romanian Minister."

"Ah," Albert said, still tapping at his glass. "You'll be needing one of these, then." Ginny heard the distinctive sound of a heavy liquid being poured into a new glass, followed by the soft groan of glass sliding across old wood. She looked up and found Albert's spare glass waiting for her.

"Yes, I think I do need one of those," she agreed. She winced at the memory of what the first glass always felt like, closed her eyes and emptied the glass. Once the searing pain was gone, she wiped at her eyes and thanked Albert. It had worked. Either it had sharpened her mind, or dulled it to the point where she couldn't remember all the things she was worried about. Either way, she could focus on something, now.

"I'd give you the whole bottle if I could," he said with a smile, "but it's the only one I have." He pulled out his wand and tapped the side of the bottle. Slowly, the level of liquid began rising again, filling the bottle right up to the neck. "And only a fool would try talking to Grigore Tarus after drinking the common Firewhiskey this lot likes so much."

Ginny sat up and stared at Albert. "You know Grigore Tarus?"

"Of course I do," he said, drinking his own glass. "If a wizard's worth knowing, I make sure I know them. That's why I know you," he added with a smile. "Have you met him before?"

Ginny nodded and told him briefly about meeting Tarus at Giza and then again in Romania. She left out the part about being tied to a table by a wizard who the entire world thought was dead. Albert listened politely, nodding appropriately between drinks from his glass.

"So that's why you looked so bad," he said. "You already know what you're in for. Don't you worry, though. You've got good sense for a witch your age. So long as you keep your wits about you, I suspect you'll do just fine. No one convinces Tarus he's wrong, but if you don't anger him, you just may get him to think that you might be right as well."

"How do you know so much about him?"

"Met him when we were both young," Albert said soberly. "He wasn't all that different then. He still had his principles and fought for them, no matter what the cost or who he might anger. He was frightfully clever even then."

"Is he trustworthy?" Ginny asked.

"Trustworthy?" Albert echoed. "Maybe, but that's not the right word for it. You can trust Grigore Tarus to be exactly what he is. In a hundred years, he's barely changed and I doubt he's ever lied. He's never been pushed about by anyone, because no one has ever found anything he values more than his own objectives." Albert paused to look at Ginny. "It's hard to deal with someone who values their life less than their sense of purpose."

"I think that sounds rather noble," Ginny commented.

"Noble... yes, I suppose so," Albert replied. "Though it's not without its complications. The first time Tarus and I met, I was only seventeen years old. He was already thirty-one years old, but wizards three times his age already respected him. I was living with my uncle at the time. He had a small cottage in the Ukraine. He raised a few magical beasts and whatever plants he could grow in the soil.

"One day, Tarus simply appeared at our door. He told us a story about a group of wizards he'd been chasing across Europe. They'd done all manner of things: torture, destruction, even murder. He said they had been working their way into the local Ministries. You know, slowly working their way into positions of influence, as if they were planning to do something really horrible.

"He told us they had taken an old mill down the river and turned it into something of a fort or castle. He just wanted some ingredients for potions and a spare broom, and he offered to pay ten times the normal price ―twenty if we'd all keep quiet about it. My uncle accepted immediately. He needed the gold, and couldn't have cared less where it came from. My father, though... he was a good wizard."

Ginny remained quiet during the story. She was fascinated about the sudden change in Albert's mood, though it was troubling at the same time. His normally cheerful nature was gone, and she was afraid of where the story might be headed.

"My father said that Tarus shouldn't have to face them alone. He vowed to help him, and in an hour he found twenty other wizards who he'd convinced to do the same. Tarus didn't try to stop them. He welcomed them, and promised them riches when they returned. I still remember the determined look on my father's face as he flew off with the rest of them. He wanted me to be proud of him for once."

Albert stopped to fill his glass, then immediately drank it. He held the empty glass in his hand, and stared down into the bottom of it. "I never saw him again. I don't think Tarus knew what he had asked of them. They were all good wizards, but they were just wizards. They weren't trained for what they were facing. When they got to the mill, the wizards there ambushed them, took Tarus captive and killed the rest of them. Then they let him go, without even a scratch."

"It was the Brotherhood, wasn't it?" Ginny asked gently. Albert nodded.

"That's right. No one really knew who they were then, and having a name wouldn't have helped. They were the wizards who'd murdered twenty of our mothers and father and sons and daughters. Then, a month later, the Russian Ministry was attacked by dark wizards. Before they'd gotten very far at all, the Brotherhood appeared, almost out of the shadows. They stopped the attack, killing every last one of the dark wizards. For an instant, they were heroes, and then they were gone, before anyone could spend a minute trying to decide whether to hunt them down, or give them all medals. The same thing happened in a dozen other countries. No one had any idea it was happening. They couldn't even tell the difference between the dark wizards and the Brotherhood.

"What happened to Tarus would change most wizards, but not him. He only saw the need to stop them at that moment, and he did whatever he could to do that. I don't think he has ever regretted his decision to attack them, or to let my father help him, but he stopped chasing them. I guess he decided that they were both right."

"Tarus isn't stupid," Ginny said. "He must have known what he was up against."

"Maybe," Albert agreed. "And maybe my father knew and went anyway. Tarus was true to his word, though. He returned a year later ―to the day― with cartloads of gold for the families of the wizards who'd left with him."

"Gold can't fix that," Ginny argued. "He used those wizards. He was no better than the Brotherhood―"

"―No, he wasn't," Albert interrupted, "and I think he'd agree with that. Grigore Tarus is no dark wizard. He has never sought power or dominion over others. He simply is what he is. If that day has changed him at all, it has made him even more wary of situations like that. I think he fears what it might make him."

"That's why he wants to fight alone," Ginny mumbled. It made much more sense now. He wasn't telling anyone because he didn't want history to repeat itself. He was trying to be as cautious as he should have been so long ago. Maybe she could trust him to help her get a message to Harry.

"Are you still angry with him?" Ginny asked.

"No," Albert said seriously, "I understand him now. It's like I said: he is what he is. He was only doing what he thought was best. He didn't know the Brotherhood was trying to fight a band of dark wizards. He's an honest wizard," Albert told her.

"I hope so," she replied.

She heard the door behind her open and close. Instinctively, she twisted to see the new arrivals. It was a pair of goblins chatting quickly in some unintelligible language. Ginny had already started turning back when she was struck with an ingenious thought. It was even better than trying to find some way to get Tarus to help her.

She tapped her glass, asking for another drink. Albert obliged, and she downed it quickly. She'd need courage and a sharp mind to pull it off. "I've got to go, Albert," she said apologetically. "There's something I've just remembered. I've got to do it tonight. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he said with a smile. "I'm an old man and it's an old story. If you find any wisdom in it, then I think it's worth the telling."

"I think it was," Ginny replied.

"Good. I hope your meeting goes well. Pay close attention to him and I think you'll do just fine."

Ginny stood up and tried to shake the mist from her head. "I hope so," she said. She waved goodbye to him and Tom and quickly walked out of the small pub. Once back on Diagon Alley, she walked straight towards Gringott's Bank. They never closed and a warm golden light spilled out of the doors as she opened them.

Once inside, she looked for the first unoccupied goblin. There were a few other wizards in the large hall, but there were many goblins. Like before, Ginny was intercepted shortly after she began walking.

"Good evening, Miss Weasley," the small goblin croaked. "Is there something I might help you with?"

"Yes," she said evenly. "I have a deposit to make."

"A deposit?" the goblin replied with narrowed eyes. "If you like, Grimbok can help you in one of the private lobbies."

"Yes, I think that would be perfect."

Ginny let herself be led to a slightly different lobby than her first visit, though it looked identical, right down to the goblin sitting behind the desk.

"I hear you have something to deposit," Grimbok said in a clear voice.

"I do," she answered. She pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket and spread it out on the desk. "I have a message I need sent," she explained as she scratched out a quick note.

"We are a bank, Miss Weasley," Grimbok replied firmly. "If you wish to send something via the post, I suggest you wait until tomorrow morning."

Ginny finished the message and quickly rolled the parchment. "I'm afraid I need it sent tonight. It's very urgent and I'd like you to use the fastest owl you can."

"Who exactly is this message being sent to?" he asked.

Ginny handed him the parchment, and with a stern look, said, "Harry Potter." Grimbok took the parchment without even twitching at the name. Ginny felt the tension leaving her stomach. "That will be acceptable, won't it?"

"For Harry Potter, yes," he said. "We try to accommodate Mister Potter in any way that we can. I will send this off to him immediately. I have just the owl for the job, too: a fine bird, a snowy owl named 'Hedwig'. She's very good at delivering messages without attracting attention."

The next day was a very hectic one. Ginny spent the day trying to make sure that everything was set. She had even taken an hour to tidy her office. Her mind kept switching back and forth, sometimes thinking about the Brotherhood and what they might try if they knew she was going to be in Romania and sometimes wondering how long it would be before Harry would get the message.

When noon rolled around, she got the knock on her door that she'd been expecting all morning. Harrington came in carrying a small, ornamental wooden box. He didn't say much to her other than wishing her good luck and telling her to check in with him when she returned.

Once he left, Ginny opened the small box to find a simple golden teacup nestled in soft purple velvet. Ginny checked her bag one last time. There were extra clothes in it, as well as two of the Shield Cloaks Harry had nicked for her. Everything was set. She took a deep breath, then reached for the teacup. The instant she touched it, she felt her navel being tugged into it, and the world around her suddenly distorted and swirled away.

Harry knew it would be completely impractical to try and track Hermione and Randolph. They were both Department of Mysteries employees. They would probably be moving carefully and searching for other signs of the Death Eaters. With a little luck, Harry could travel faster, and intercept them before they walked into an ambush.

He needed luck because Hermione already had quite a lead on him. While he might be able to travel faster in Albania, she almost certainly had less problems leaving Britain. From Knockturn Alley, he took the Floo to a pub in Ireland where he'd be able to Apparate. The closest he'd really gotten to Albania had been Rome, so he Apparated there, and began searching for some way to cross the Adriatic.

After a little searching, he found a quiet ferry service that would take him to a small coastal town named Bar, just north of the Albanian border. The local wizards refused to take him directly to Albania, claiming that it had become far too dangerous in the past weeks. Harry paid them a little extra to take him as quickly as they could.

Harry crossed the Albanian border just as the sun rose above the trees. It would be easier to find them during the day. They wouldn't just go right to the castle. They were here to look for Death Eaters, and that meant talking to the wizards who lived there. Harry was confident that he had enough gold to encourage the Albanian wizards to speak.

He stopped in the first pub he found, and inquired about the local Floo network. Much like Britain, all of the popular pubs and inns were connected, but there weren't that many wizards in Albania, and Harry was able to take note of a small number of places where he expected he'd be able to find out about Hermione and Randolph.

By noon, he'd found a number of people who were willing to admit they had seen two British wizards asking about any trouble in the area. He even found a young witch who told him the name of the castle they were searching for: Drinaj. It overlooked a river near the town of Brezhdan. He knew they wouldn't go there during the day, so he took the opportunity to go to the nearest inn and get something to eat.

Well before the sun went down, he left on a small raft and floated north along the river that wound past the castle. Just as the sun set, he saw the imposing silhouette of a tower against the orange sky. He paddled to the shore, stepped off the raft and let it continue drifting down the river.

The castle was dark and quiet. In many places, it appeared to be cracked and crumbling, but the single path leading to the gate was paved and conspicuously clean of any of the debris one might expect after years of disuse. After an hour of searching, he couldn't find any other way in, and a quick attempt at Apparation revealed exactly what he expected: there were protective wards around the castle. He was at the right place.

He found a tall hill which allowed him to keep watch over both the castle and the river. Just for extra caution, he pulled his Invisibility Cloak over him, then sat back against a large tree at waited.

Other than a pack of wolves, he didn't see anything through the entire night. When morning came, he felt a little more uncertain of himself and decided he needed to ask a few more questions. He felt fairly confident that he'd be able to Apparate back to his hill when he was done.

Over breakfast, he spoke with a pair of old wizards who were pleased that one of the many strangers walking about the area was willing to talk to them. They asked him if he was there to try and stop the recent attacks, and once he'd convinced them that he was, they were quite eager to share everything they knew.

They weren't able to describe any of the wizards from the attacks, since they had all happened at night. The Muggle peasants around the castle had noticed them as well, and were spreading superstitions about the shadows springing to life and burning their cottages. The local wizards knew better, but said only that their attackers wore dark cloaks and only attacked wizards who approached Drinaj Castle.

Just as Harry was finishing his meal, the old wizards asked him if the _other two_ would be joining him. Harry asked them to explain and found out that Hermione and Randolph were staying in that very inn. They had arrived the night before and had spent most of the evening looking over large rolls of parchment.

Though it made him feel horribly guilty, Harry was forced to Obliviate both of the wizards. He slipped out of the inn immediately and successfully Apparated back to his hill near the castle. If either of them had heard there was a wizard asking about them, they would be much harder to follow. He took a slight chance, and allowed himself to sleep through the morning and most of the afternoon. When he woke up, there was still no sign that anyone had entered or left the castle.

As dusk came, Harry became more alert. He knew Hermione was nearby. They wouldn't be at the inn unless they were planning on coming to the castle. The parchment they'd been looking at last night was probably some old map they had found somewhere.

The hours slipped by, but there was no sign of either Hermione or Death Eaters. As dawn came, he wondered if he had scared them off after they heard news that another strange wizard had been talking about them. He tried to reassure himself that such things wouldn't scare them off forever, it would just make them more cautious. He spent the next morning setting up a few charms of his own. He allowed himself to sleep through the day, confident that the alarms he'd created would wake him if anyone walked down the path.

That night, he felt tense and on edge. Nothing had set off his alarms all day. Whatever the Death Eaters were doing, they must have been trying to be very secretive about it. He tried not to think of the possibility that there was some other entrance they were using. He'd searched the immediate area, and there was no way he'd find it if it wasn't nearby.

As the night wore on, the tension became anxiety. The whole area was quiet and dead, as if someone had emptied it of all animals. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite understand what it was. It felt as though something important was happening. If Hermione would show up, he wasn't sure how much time he'd have to react.

He took off the Invisibility Cloak and began readying his bag and putting anything he might need into the pockets of his robes. He'd worked out two different paths down to the castle gate, and he kept checking them to see that they were both clear. As the first glow of sunlight crept over the horizon, Harry began feeling very nervous. He was certain that something was wrong now. He felt it, tugging at him, telling him that he wasn't where he needed to be.

To confirm that feeling, Harry saw a faint glint of white sparking at him through the trees of the valley. It was coming toward him, and moving quickly. He slung his bag over his shoulder and began quietly moving down the slope. He'd lost track of whatever was following him, but he didn't want to try and find it again. He kept moving down the hill. He needed to get to the castle. Something was happening. Hermione must have found some other way inside.

Suddenly, something white dropped out of the trees. Harry pulled his wand instantly, but paused as the object slowed with a fluttering of wings and made a soft landing on a nearby branch.

"Hedwig?" Harry asked with amazement. "What are you doing here?"

Unable to give a more detailed answer, Hedwig hooted sharply and held out a leg. Attached to it was a rough piece of parchment sealed with a golden ribbon and the Gringott's crest. Harry stepped forward, took the parchment and quickly read it. When he finished, he swore loudly, startling the owl.

"Stay here," he ordered, "but be quick if I call for you." Hedwig hooted in response, and Harry hoped it meant she'd understood.

He stuffed the note into his pocket and began running down the slope to the path. It was smooth and even and he was able to cover the distance to the gate quickly.

He reached the large door, aimed his wand, and shattered the steel lock keeping it shut. He gave one of the doors a shove, and slipped into a large cavernous hall. A large staircase used to rise from the center of the hall and wind up toward the single tower, but at the first corner, a huge section had fallen away and lay in a tumbled heap upon the floor.

Harry stopped and took a closer look at the floor. Everywhere he looked, it was covered in what had to be a century of dust. The path to the door looked as if it had been kept purposefully clean, but there was no way that any number of people had been in that hall within the last decade. The only disturbances in the thick covering were his own footsteps. He tried a number of spells, trying to find any Illusion or Concealment Charms. There was nothing. He walked farther into the hall, and carefully walked up the damaged stairs, hoping for a better view. Once he was halfway up the first flight, he noticed something he hadn't seen before: another set of footprints.

Harry leaped down the stairs and found them. He'd been walking right on top of them, for quite some time, but after that, they turned aside and led through the shadows on one side of the staircase. Judging by the number of prints, it had been more than one person, and they had walked in and left by the same route.

Harry followed them along the side of the staircase. The wall ended in a tall arch supporting the stairs above him, but the footprints turned under the arch and descended down a second set of narrower, darker stairs.

Harry lit his wand and carefully walked down the dusty steps into what appeared to be a dark cellar under the castle. Was there another entrance? He moved slowly, trying to keep an eye on the footprints in case any of them ever turned aside or disappeared under the wall.

Eventually he followed them into a large room which was filled with rows of wooden crates and huge barrels, most of which were rotted and broken. Rows of unlit torches lined a long walkway between them. He came to a bend in the room, and turned to follow the walkway, but stopped abruptly when he realized that there was a light ahead of him. He extinguished his wand and crept forward.

It appeared there was a smaller room through a doorway at the end of the walkway. The light was flickering as if coming from a torch ―or as if a pair of wizards were working under the light of a wand.

Carefully and quietly, Harry set his bag on the ground behind a large crate. He continued forward, his wand drawn and ready. He stepped right up to the doorway, and slowly looked into the room. The back wall was closer than Harry had realized, and the light was definitely coming from some sort of flame. He pulled a small mirror from his pocket and used it to peer around the corner.

The room was empty.

Harry stepped into the room. It was long and narrow. Against the far end, perhaps thirty feet away, stood a small worn desk and a single lit candle. There was a small glint of light coming from the desk. Harry walked forward, wary of traps or other tricks. It wasn't until he reached the desk that he realized just what it was.

Stretched out across the desk was a silver chain made of links so small it looked like a fine silver cord. Laying in front of the candle, with the chain looped through it, was a talisman made of a large ring of gold passing through three silver spheres.

Harry felt his pulse pounding in his neck. His throat tightened and it felt as though every muscle in his body was pulled tight. His arm shot forward, snatching the ring off the table. With an enraged shout he spun around and threw the necklace across the room. It struck the far wall, sending a pair of sparks to the ground and filling the room with a ringing echo.

Harry ran out of the room. He yanked his bag off the floor and slashed his wand at the torches, making them burst into flame. He ran down the walkway, heedless of the footsteps or any other paths or doors. They didn't matter. None of it mattered. Hermione wasn't there. She had never been there, and he doubted she ever would be there.

He leaped up the stairs to the main hall. He felt the soft dust under his feet and quickly ran out from under the grand staircase. As the front doors slid into his view, he stopped and leveled his wand. He shouted a single word, and both doors shattered, showering the stone path outside the castle with splinters.

He kept running, out the open doorway and across the path. He paused for a moment, put his fingers to his lips and whistled as loudly as he could. He ran forward searching the slopes around him for Hedwig. A moment later, he saw her soar out from behind a stand of trees and turn toward him.

Harry dropped to the ground and frantically rummaged through his bag, searching for a quill to write with. He didn't have any parchment, so he retrieved the parchment Ginny had sent, blanked it, and began scrawling a response as quickly as he could. When he was finished, he rolled it up and tapped it with his wand, making the ribbon wrap itself around the parchment again.

"Get this to Ginny as quickly as you can, no matter where she is," he commanded. "Go now! There's no time." Hedwig took the letter and leaped into the air, flying straight and fast across the treetops.


	15. Behind the Veil

**Chapter 15**

**Behind the Veil

* * *

**

Ginny felt her feet hit something hard, and when she opened her eyes, she was standing in the middle of a wide stone balcony overlooking a large city. In the distance, she could see a castle perched on a large hill and a raised road snaking its way toward the gate. She stepped toward the stone wall along the edge of the balcony and looked down.

Below her she saw a courtyard which looked all too familiar. The fountain in the center was broken and empty. A large scaffold had been erected nearby, and four wizards were busy assembling a pair of large doors braced with steel and gold. Other wizards were busy planting trees and repairing large stone tiles.

"It is a tragedy," announced a voice from behind her. "That courtyard was created long ago by a very old family who wished to return some beauty to this battle scarred city."

Ginny spun around and found Grigore Tarus standing in the doorway behind her. "I― I'm sorry, I promise I never meant―" Tarus held up a finger to stop her.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said with a smile. "Even if you alone had been the source of all that destruction, I would consider myself lucky to pay such a small price for your safety. I would rather see this city destroyed than have you killed."

Ginny was not prepared for such a statement, and she struggled to find the most appropriate response.

"Do not concern yourself. This is the nature of things. Come," he beckoned as he walked to the low wall and pointed to the wizards working on the massive doors. "Do you see those doors, there? The first doors were heavily enchanted to keep this city safe. They were crafted so well, that after centuries they had never failed. However, they did tend to look as if their creator was as worried about the inhabitants as he was about the invaders.

"A hundred years ago, they were improved, 'to correctly reflect the wealth and greatness of the city,' it was said. It was a small change, but the tiniest flaws can become fatal weaknesses. They are being built anew, by the finest craftsmen in Europe. They will be strong, imposing, inspiring and beautiful. Such a creation would not have been made for many years had the old doors not been torn down."

He swept his hand over the rest of the courtyard. "All the trees will be replaced. We will bring in the most attractive and noble trees from around the world. There you can see a pair of tall birches from the wilds of Finland. This inn, one of the oldest in the city, is full for the first time in ages."

"So, you're _happy_ it was destroyed?"

"Happy? No, of course not," Tarus said, "but such events are only destructive if we allow it to remain destroyed. This is only a tragedy because the wizards who created it never had a chance to see how appreciated their gift had become."

Ginny nodded distractedly. Her mind had already moved on to much more interesting topics. It was obvious to her now that she was in the same tower which she and Harry had reached from the tunnel. Tarus had said that he didn't know what had happened to her, but his words and actions spoke differently.

"Why am I here?" she asked.

"A wise question," he said with a smile. "Clever witches and wizards ask questions with many answers. One can often learn many things while professing to have only a single purpose."

"No, I... er..." Ginny stammered, struggling to understand what Tarus had implied.

He simply laughed. "You have better instincts than many, Ginny. To answer your question, I will give you all that you might ask. You are in Romania to discuss my request for Aurors during the Quidditch World Cup Tournament. Your Minister thinks it is impractical and impossible, and for once, he is correct. You're here to see that the number is lowered, but you'll fail. Instead you will force me to agree to let other wizards ―well-trained, but not Aurors― be used in their place."

Ginny stared at him strangely. If he hadn't been laughing, she might have thought he was trying to pressure her into agreement.

"You are on this balcony because I was forced to bring you here by Portkey," Tarus continued, keeping the same light tone. "A regrettable choice, but a necessary one. Myself, I never have liked Portkeys. It is simply too easy to trick their users. However, it is also difficult to track their users, and impossible to waylay them. I brought you to this balcony because this inn is perfectly safe, and from here you would be able to see with your own eyes that you are just where I said you were.

"If you wished to know why you are in this inn, and not any other, the answer is much simpler. This is the safest building in the Lower City. Even the Gatehouse is less secure, due to its rather drafty nature at the moment," he added with a smirk. "And finally, if you want to know why you are in the Lower City, and not the Upper City, I need only ask you: Would you rather spend the night in the Castle? The city guards insist that you will be perfectly safe there."

"No, I think this will do fine," Ginny answered quickly.

"I expected you would say that," Tarus replied. "I also expect that one of those was the answer you were seeking? While it is possible you were asking a philosophical question about the purpose of our very existence, I'm afraid that answer would be very long, and quite boring. I was hoping you might stop me before I was forced to begin on that subject. Are you satisfied? May I skip the discussion of our grand purpose in life?"

"Yes, thank you," Ginny replied, unable to keep a smile off her face. "I think you've answered all my questions."

"That is fortunate, for I must leave for the evening. Something very important and frightfully boring has come up. I'm sorry to say that must attend to it immediately," he explained. "Feel free to explore as much of the city as your bravery allows. Please do remember, however, that you do work for me now, and you will make a poor assistant if I cannot find you tomorrow morning."

Tarus bowed and left quietly. Ginny explored the rest of her room and found it to be rather lavishly decorated. She realized that she should have expected such a room, since Tarus himself must have asked for it. As the sun descended toward the horizon, a pair of young wizards arrived at her door with a number of platters of food. Ginny accepted them graciously.

She had absolutely no desire to venture out into the city again. She preferred the idea that hardly anyone even knew she had left London. As night fell, she watched the torches flare to life across the city from her balcony. It seemed Tarus had already worked out all the details of their meeting. With luck, she would be back in London before lunch.

* * *

Ginny awoke the next morning to a bright sunrise shining into her room through the balcony. She hadn't slept as well as she had wanted to. While she believed what Tarus had said, the only thing between her room and the night sky were the satiny (and undoubtedly expensive) curtains hanging across the doorway to her balcony. Certainly someone would have thought to make sure that someone would need more than a broom to break into any of the rooms. Still, it made for troubled dreams. 

She decided to chase her memories of the night away with a long, relaxing bath. Her room had two of them, and Ginny had chosen the deeper of the two. For almost an hour she simply laid back, soaking in the warm water and listening to the gentle music being made by a bizarre clam-like creature that lived in the bottom of the tub.

She had almost drifted back to sleep when she heard the familiar sound of ruffling feathers coming from her room. It must have been an owl. Tarus said he would be meeting with her this morning. He'd probably sent the owl to tell her when she would be expected. With a resigned sigh, she stepped out of the bath and dressed quickly. Wondering whether she'd have time for breakfast, she grabbed her brush and walked out of the bathroom.

She started brushing her hair, but stopped immediately and let the brush fall to the floor when she saw the owl perched on the foot of her bed. It was Hedwig. She even recognized the parchment she was carrying as the same piece she had sent two days ago. Had Hedwig been unable to find Harry? What could that mean? Hedwig hooted encouragingly and held out her leg.

Ginny took the note, and realized immediately that it was not the same note she'd sent. It was the same parchment, but she could see the distinctive shapes of Harry's handwriting scratched through the parchment before she'd even finished opening it. As she sat down and flattened the parchment in front of her, Hedwig jumped from her perch and flew off through the curtain.

Ginny was upset for a moment, but realized that if Hedwig had made it to Romania in only a little over a day, she must be hungry and tired. Instead of worrying about Hedwig, Ginny turned her attention to the letter. As she expected, it was from Harry, and by the look of his handwriting he had written it very quickly. She frowned as she began reading.

_Ginny,_

_You need to leave Romania as quickly as you can. The Brotherhood is planning something and you're in terrible danger. Don't send any messages to me or Hermione or any of your family members. Don't let anyone in the Ministry know where you are until you are back in London, and try to avoid Grigore Tarus and all of the guards if you can._

_The Brotherhood is watching you. You need to stay hidden until you can find a way out of the city and back to London. I will be coming to help if you have not found a way out already. If you need to find me, look for a shop on the High Street selling the first Christmas gift I got from Kreacher. Once you're inside, a goblin will find you and tell you where to go. Try not to let anyone notice you._

_Destroy this message as soon as you can. Please be careful, and stay hidden. I'm on my way._

_Harry_

Ginny sat and stared at the message for a while longer. The message itself wasn't as disturbing as the way it was written. Harry's script was hurried, frantic, and tense. In a few places, his quill had almost cut through the parchment. What had happened to make him react like this? Why hadn't he told her anything more? How would he know if she had made it out of the city? What would he do after she left?

There were too many questions, but the letter wasn't going to answer them. She quickly found her wand, picked up the message and held it away from her body. She tapped it lightly with her wand and called out, "_Inflamare._" The parchment incinerated instantly, leaving only the smallest puff of ash.

She wanted to go to the balcony and see if there was something happening in the city that might give her some clue about Harry's worries, but thought better of it. Perhaps her appearance on a balcony visible to all of the city would be just the thing the Brotherhood was waiting for. She'd been stupid to spend so much time there the previous afternoon. She began pacing, trying to figure out just what to do, but was interrupted a minute later with a sharp knock at her door.

"Ginny," a voice called through the door, "may I speak with you?"

It was Grigore Tarus. If anyone was going to tell her what was happening, it would be him. Ginny raced to the door, and pulled it open. Tarus stood in shock for a moment, looking rather uncertain.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he stepped into the room. "You look upset."

"Oh, no," Ginny said dismissively, "I, er... I'm just a little off today. I don't sleep well in strange places."

"I understand," Tarus said with a somber nod. "Well, it was an unsettling night for many, I'm afraid."

"Is something wrong?" Ginny asked, trying not to appear as eager as she truly was.

"Wrong? No, not yet," he answered. "There are... complications."

"I think I need to leave."

"Oh? And what will you tell your Minister?"

"Just what you told me yesterday," Ginny answered. "I've thought about it and it's perfectly reasonable. It still accomplishes what you want, but it will be easier for him to accomplish and he'll be more willing to help when you ask for more next week."

"And why would I ask for more next week?" Tarus asked curiously.

"Because the war will have started by then," Ginny replied boldly.

Tarus surveyed her carefully. "You are a truly clever witch. I have never regretted my decision to seek you out."

"So we're done then?" she asked. "Do you have a Portkey or fireplace I can use to get back to London?"

"I do, but I'm afraid that there is some other business I need to discuss with you first. I have a Portkey which will take us to the Castle. I regret that the situation is now so unstable that we can no longer risk taking even the High Street. Your Portkey to London is there."

"We can't discuss it here?"

"It will be much more difficult here. Some things are easier to understand when they can be seen," he told her. Seeing the worry in her face, he stepped closer to her and spoke in a reassuring voice, "There is nothing for you to worry about."

"Your guards―"

"My guards will not harm you while you are with me," he finished for her. "The situation is precarious, but not yet that disastrous. Please trust me. This should not take long. You can be back in your Ministry before Harrington has even left for his noon meal."

Tarus pulled a small wooden box from his pocket and opened it for Ginny. Sitting on a bed of soft velvet, was a small silver key. Tarus held the end of it in one hand, and slipped the box back into his pocket with the other. When he pulled it back out, it was holding his wand. He gave her a questioning look.

With a deep breath, Ginny took a hold of the other end of the key. Tarus nodded and slowly moved his wand toward the key. The moment they touched, Ginny felt her body get yanked forward and the room around her vanished.

* * *

A moment later, Ginny found herself standing in a round room lined with ancient-looking paintings. The floor was marble, but the walls looked to be made of roughly cut granite. 

"Where are we?" she asked suspiciously.

"You see? It's not so easy to trust them, is it?" Tarus commented. "Come. See for yourself." He led Ginny through a small doorway and out onto another balcony. They were in the Castle, and she could see the tower they had been in gleaming in the morning sun across the city.

"What are we here to talk about?" Ginny asked.

"You," Tarus answered casually. He motioned for Ginny to follow him back into the castle.

"Me? What about me?" Ginny asked as he led her through a different door which led to a set of stairs which spiraled back down into the castle. As they stepped onto them, Ginny felt them lurch slightly and slowly start twisting downward. Tarus didn't hesitate, and began walking down them at a casual pace.

"I have met tens of thousands of wizards in my life, Ginny," he explained as they began passing doorways to various levels of the castle. "Of them, there have a hundred or so great witches and wizards. In my mind, I see them as proud ships sailing the great sea. They ride above the world, navigating its currents and anticipating its storms. Other wizards are content to follow the winds of fate, but the great wizards bend them to their will." Tarus paused and looked back, "You, Ginny, are one of those wizards. A great storm is approaching, and I foresee that you will be the anchor that will keep the wizarding world safe. You will be a great leader."

"I haven't done much to show it," she commented.

"Come now. You can't tell me that no one has ever told you that you were not like the others," he said as continued down the stairway. "No one has ever singled you out? No one has insisted on selecting you when others were available?"

"I haven't done half the things that Hermione has done. Even Ron's done more than I have."

"And they are also great wizards, but they do not hold the potential that you do. Miss Granger is amazingly clever, but she has become tangled in the servitude of others and only seeks answers to questions that others ask. Even your brother, Ronald, has great potential, but he has chosen to run from it and hide behind a frivolous pastime."

"And what I've done is so much more?" Ginny argued. "I'm just an assistant. All of the honors and duties don't change that. I didn't do anything to deserve them. I didn't do anything to make them happen."

"Of course not," Tarus replied lightly. "I did."

Ginny nearly tripped down the stairs. "What?" she barked. "You did what?"

"I felt guilty when I heard that you no longer wanted to be an Auror," he explained. "You would have made a fine Auror, but after what happened to Charles, it was understandable. So I gave you another option. I set up the meeting with Henri. Had he been more respectful, you would have been able to profit greatly from his friendship. I convinced the French delegates and the French Minister to gamble upon your abilities, and it paid off well. When the opportunity arose, I told Razvan to suggest you to be the delegate to visit our pitch so that I might see how you were handling your new duties."

"You manipulated the Ministry to get those things!"

"Manipulated? That is a poor choice of words to describe what I have done," Tarus replied defensively. "The Ministry pays you to do as they tell you, do they not? Are they manipulating you? Is that so different from what I have done? I paid handsomely, in both agreements and resources, to see that you got what you deserved. At each step, you have proven your value, and you have accomplished more than your Ministry expected. In essence, I have paid for them to discover a witch with invaluable talent. These are unstable times. We do not have the luxury of time. I have only revealed what they would have found in time. In what sense would that be... manipulation?" he asked with distaste.

Ginny trudged down the steps trying to figure out just how to respond. She felt confused. In many ways he was correct, and yet it still felt distinctly wrong and unfair to her. It _was_ manipulation. The fact that the result was beneficial to the Ministry didn't make it any less so. The question was whether such manipulation was wrong by definition. Instead of pressing the issue, she decided to try a different angle.

"Why me, then?" she asked with real curiosity. "Because of Charlie?"

"You mean, why you and not Miss Granger?" he asked. "I will admit that I did feel some obligation to your brother, but that only drove me to seek you out. What I found in you was unused potential in amounts I had not expected."

The stairs came to an abrupt end at a huge iron door. Tarus retrieved the key they had used as a Portkey and slipped it into the lock. With a light push, the door swung open, revealing a large circular room. Two large staircases came to an end on either side of the room. Directly across from them was a large stone arch which appeared to slope down from the level of the room. As they stepped into the room, torches around the perimeter burst to life.

"The war is nearly here, Ginny," he said with a serious tone. "Whatever happens, the world will be in dire need of truly great witches and wizards when it is over. Hermione knows her talents. When the war ends, she strive to use them, even if that is not what the world needs. You are only beginning to understand your talents. It is much easier to build a strong castle if you start from a clean foundation, rather than trying to finish one half-completed by someone else. You are a clean foundation, Ginny. With my help, your talents have grown faster than they ever would. Fast enough to prepare you for what is to come."

"My talents? What exactly are those?" Ginny asked. "What am I supposed to be preparing for? A war?"

"No, for peace," answered the old wizard. "The war will come, and it will be won, for it must be. To allow ourselves to consider losing that war is to contemplate the upheaval of nature itself."

Tarus led her across the room, through the large arch and down the gently sloping corridor. "You are the key to everything I have anticipated, Ginny. When the war is over, you will be desperately needed. Your friends are influential whether they survive or not. That influence will grow into power. You have a sharp mind and a quick wand. The world will accept you as a leader, whether you want them to or not. You will not be able to do it alone. You will need the wizards you have met. They will make powerful allies."

"What is this all about? Why did we have to come here to talk about this?" Ginny asked. Something was beginning to make her uncomfortable. It was intangible, yet unmistakable. "Where are we going?"

"I had meant to bring you here earlier. Perhaps many hardships could have been avoided, and perhaps things could have turned out much worse," he commented mysteriously. Ahead of them was another large arch, blocked by a pair of very simple doors. They appeared to be made out of stone trimmed with gold. Tarus stopped as they reached them and turned toward Ginny. His eyes stared intently at her.

Ginny tried to stare back, but her earlier discomfort was growing and becoming more insistent. It was distracting and irritating, like a buzzing in her mind that could not be escaped or ignored.

"You can feel it, can't you?" Tarus asked. "Even through these doors you perceive it."

Ginny stared at him in confusion. "What are you talking about? What is it?"

"I decided long ago that you needed to know before the war started. You needed to see it and _hear_ it before you were forced to decide what you would do," he told her solemnly. "This place was not inhabited because of its fertile fields or easily defended citadel. At the heart of this hill is something the ancient wizards knew must be protected."

His answer had done little to answer Ginny's question, but as he turned away from her to face the arch, the stone doors groaned and slowly parted, revealing a dimly lit, cavernous hall through the doorway. Tarus remained standing where he was, but he nodded to her, telling her to enter.

As Ginny stepped forward, she was surprised with the size of the room. It was round, like so many of the other rooms in the Castle. The floor of the room looked to be more than twenty feet below her, at the bottom of six successively smaller levels, almost like some sort of amphitheater. The ceiling was domed and rose well over the level of the door.

In the center of the room, there was a raised, circular platform of crumbling stone. In its center stood a single arch of smooth, dark stone. It was cracked in many places, and one side had a sizable chunk missing, making it appear as though it was standing precariously. Over the arch was hung a single piece of dark fabric which trembled slightly.

Ginny's eyes had locked on it. Her mind more than her ears confirmed that the buzzing, hissing noise was coming from it. The resemblance to the archway in the Department of Mysteries was more than coincidental. They were not identical, but Ginny had no doubt that their functions were similar. Her feet were frozen where they were, unwilling to either run away or move an inch closer.

"You have seen one of these before, have you?" Tarus whispered from behind her. "Someone who had never seen one would not be so hesitant to investigate it."

"I have seen... another arch like this," Ginny mumbled as she stood transfixed, "in the Department of Mysteries."

"Of course you have," he said softly. "That is just one of many coincidences that made me realize how important you are. Few wizards would be able to understand what you are about to experience."

Ginny's head spun around to glare at Tarus.

"Relax, Ginny," he said comfortingly. "I have not expended all of this time and energy to simply throw you through that arch. I would sooner throw myself," he said sincerely. "You hear it, don't you? It is just a minor thing, like a sound you cannot quite identify or a splinter in your finger which you cannot find."

Ginny nodded and turned back toward the arch.

"Step closer with me," he urged, "and tell me what it is you hear."

They carefully climbed down the ancient steps leading to the platform. Ginny was unable to concentrate on anything but the arch. As she approached, the sound felt stronger, and she began to think she could almost hear it. Tarus led her down to the last level and stood with her just beyond the edge of the platform.

"We will be safe here," he told her. "Now listen, and tell me what you hear."

Ginny closed her eyes, and focused on the bizarre mixture of sounds swirling around in her mind. There was a strange rhythmic hissing, almost like the sound of someone slowly sweeping a floor with a straw broom, and a deeper sound, somewhere between the sound of a boiling cauldron and the grinding of stone against stone. Mixed in with those sounds was another sound, or possibly a group of sounds. It rose and fell in volume, like the tide washing against a beach, but softer and almost musical.

"I don't know what it is," Ginny said. "It might be nothing at all. It's just noises."

"It's more than that," Tarus insisted. "It is not one thing, but many. Concentrate. Open your eyes. See the veil in your eyes, hear the sound in your ears, and perceive the other side with your mind."

Ginny did as he said, and twitched as she saw the veil ruffle slightly as if momentarily struck by a breeze. She swallowed and tried to concentrate harder. The sound increased in volume, but she noticed that it sounded muffled. With a little encouragement from Tarus she focused even more, and slowly, the veil began to ripple and sway in some sort of pattern.

The sounds became a little clearer, and Ginny began to hear a more definite pattern to the sounds. The hissing was not so rough or broken as she had thought before. It was smooth and continuous, but varying rapidly in pitch and volume. It sounded less like scratching and more like rushing air. The rumbling remained the same, but the third sound was much more distinct.

It was not just a single sound, but the combined sounds of a vast number of things. like wind through a forest of trees, and yet it was more than that. The sounds seemed to have a life of their own. They were calling out to her, trying to get her attention.

"I― I think I hear... voices," Ginny stammered.

"What are they saying? How do they sound?"

Ginny tried to ignore the other sounds, but it was harder than she thought. The more she focused on the voices, the louder the hissing and grinding got. There were many voices, hundreds of voices, calling out to her across some vast distance. They sounded sad or mournful. Were they trapped there? Where did the arch lead? Were they trying to find a way out? Ginny stretched her neck forward a little, and the voices rose over the hissing. There was something more about them that she couldn't quite make out.

Slowly and unconsciously, she stepped up onto the platform. "Just a little closer," she murmured. She felt Tarus's strong hands holding onto her shoulders firmly.

As she'd hoped, the voices became even clearer. The veil flapped and waved as if tossed by a brisk wind. The voices didn't sound so mournful anymore. They sounded as if they were pleading or begging. Something felt wrong. They weren't begging to be saved, they wanted her to do something. It wasn't sadness she had heard, it was despair.

"They're trying to warn me about something," she said urgently. "They're trying to tell me to do something ―something to prevent it." As she spoke, the voices swelled, and Ginny thought she could almost hear them echoing in the room. They were desperate and panicked. In the background, the rumbling began to get louder.

"Time does not exist on the other side," Tarus said sharply. "They see the past and present at the same time, and perceive the future with the clarity that you and I might foresee the events of the next few moments. There is much that we may learn from them."

"They're afraid of something," she said. "Something is going to happen, or―" The rumbling increased suddenly, becoming so loud that Ginny felt it in her chest. The veil billowed like a sail, and she realized in one terrifying moment that it was not grinding at all, but the rumbling growl of some _thing_ on the other side of the veil. Her skin went icy cold, as though it had been struck by a harsh winter wind. Her heart began beating faster, sending hot blood through her chilled veins.

"What is it?" she asked in terror. The voices were crying out to her now, but she couldn't hear them over the growl. The hissing started again, sounding as if it were coming from inside her skull. As it echoed in her mind, she felt twinges of pain shooting down her neck. She closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her ears, but it didn't help. The hissing got louder and louder, forming some rhythmic pattern, a pattern that sounded faintly familiar.

Her heart pounded in her chest, mingling the echoes of her own pulse with the hissing in her head. It was a sound she'd heard before, a memory kept only in the deepest corners of her mind. It grew louder still. The rhythm had stopped, replaced by the same pattern, again and again:

_Assyath ash sharrath assai! Assyath ash sharrath assai!_

It was a command. She didn't know what it was asking, but she couldn't stop hearing it. She tried to think of anything else. She pressed her hands against her eyes, trying to force her mind to focus on something else. It continued, louder and louder, more demanding each time. Her throat tightened, choking her. When she gasped for breath, her lungs filled with hot, dry air. Her whole body felt hot now, and her skin felt scorched and dry. Panicking, she twisted and flailed her arms, trying to get Tarus to let go so she could run away.

She opened her eyes for a brief instant, and saw the veil billowing out toward her as if driven by a violent gale. An oily-looking plume of black vapor was escaping from the cracked support of the arch. Then, with the sound of an oncoming train, the veil was tossed upward, revealing an infinite blackness. An image flashed into her mind, an image which had haunted her dreams for years: a young man grimacing maliciously at her, his cruel, hate-filled eyes burning with a malevolent green light.

_Assyath ash sharrath assai! Ginny! Come to me!_

Ginny closed her eyes and screamed until her throat hurt. She felt her feet leave the floor, and then a moment later she heard another voice echoing through the room.

"_Occulo Animoportus!_"

As though a door were slammed shut, the sound stopped. Ginny found herself on the cold marble floor lying only feet from the platform. Grigore Tarus was standing over her, with his wand drawn. A smooth beam of light was stretched from the tip of his wand toward the arch. She twisted to follow it and found the arch surrounded by a cylinder of crackling purple light, which followed the edge of the platform and extended to the ceiling. Inside the cylinder, the veil twisted and flapped angrily.

Tarus looked tense and angry. Like Ginny, he was breathing heavily and shaking. She sat up and slid herself away from the platform. The veil was gradually calming, and by the time she had reached the rise of the first terrace, it was only swaying gently. Tarus lowered his wand, and the wall of light dissolved away. The slightly irritating buzzing noise returned. It no longer held any of the intensity she'd just experienced, yet she found that she could now make out the three distinct components.

"I must apologize," Tarus said shakily, "I was not prepared for it to escalate that quickly,"

"Why didn't you let me go?" Ginny replied in a raspy voice. "Didn't you see it? Couldn't you hear it?"

"No, I could not. What you saw and heard was only in your mind."

"I couldn't stop it. Didn't you feel me trying to escape?"

A look of remorse crossed Tarus's face. "I did," he said. "It was only a matter of seconds. I did not expect it would happen that quickly."

"Seconds?"

"No more than four seconds passed between your last word and the moment you began screaming. I reacted as quickly as I could. I apologize. I am not as quick as I once was."

Ginny turned and stared at the arch. Four seconds? What had happened to her? No one had ever described anything like that with the arch in the Department of Mysteries. Harry and the Order had fought a battle with the Death Eaters around it. What was so different about this one? What had happened and how had Tarus stopped it?

Ginny looked at the platform again and noticed something curious. She'd been too preoccupied with the arch to see it before. The platform itself was made of cracked white marble, but the edge was not. The lip of the platform was made entirely of gold, as though a huge golden ring had been embedded into the stone surrounding the platform. To either side of the arch, there were a pair of large silver globes also embedded into the stone, which the golden ring seemed to pass through in a single piece. Ginny had little doubt that she would find a third on the far side of the platform.

"What is this place?" she asked unsteadily. "Who made this? Was that― Was that some sort of illusion, or..."

"You saw no illusion," Tarus assured her. "What you saw is no less real than anything that exists in this world. I can only speculate as to what you saw. I am afraid that I do not have the strength to face it without someone to guard me as I guarded you."

Ginny wasn't paying attention to him. "Did they build this?" she asked as she struggled to her feet. "Why do they want him? How did they find him..."

Tarus strode over to her and stared into her eyes. "Did you see him? Did he _speak_ to you? _What did he tell you_?" he asked, clutching at her shoulders with sudden desperation.

Ginny ignored his questions, and pointed at the ring surrounding the platform. "Why is that here? What does it mean?"

Her voice seemed to wake Tarus from his own thoughts. He looked to see what she was pointing at, then turned back toward her with a curious expression. "You have seen something like it before? I thought you might have."

With an echoing _boom_ the doors above them flew open, striking the wall on either side of the doorway. Ginny flinched at the noise, and when she looked up she saw three wizards leaping down the stairs toward her and Tarus. They were not wearing the purple robes of the city guard, but the long, grey hooded cloaks of the Brotherhood. Their wands were already in their hands.

Ginny stood up and spun around, pulling her wand from her pocket and training it on them in one fluid motion. Two of them stopped immediately and raised their wands, but the third shouted something in a foreign language and jumped back toward the other two. If she acted quickly, she might be able to hit more than one of them. Just as she was about to cast her hex, Tarus leaped toward her, knocking her wand from her hand. Instinctively, she twisted and elbowed him hard in the chest. He gave a feeble cry, and fell back as Ginny dove her for wand.

"_Stop!_" echoed Tarus's voice.

Ginny froze, having already recovered her wand and pointed it at the three wizards on the stairs. She took a moment to look at them. The first of them through the door was currently standing between her and the other two. He was clutching at one of the wizards' wrists, pointing it harmlessly toward the ceiling.

"Josef! Send the other two away!" Tarus commanded. Ginny heard the wizard facing away from her bark an order, and the two wizards slowly relaxed, put their wands away and quickly climbed the stairs. When they had left, the first wizard walked down the last stretch of stairs and strode toward them.

"I apologize, Grigore," the wizard said. "The detectors went off, I did not know you had already brought her here."

Ginny stared at the wizard before her. She recognized him almost immediately. It was Josef, the guard who'd come to the Ministry only a week earlier and the one who had guided her to Tarus the first time they'd spoken. Now, however, he was dressed in the long grey cloaks the Brotherhood wore, and hanging from his neck in plain view was a talisman of gold, in the shape of a single gold ring passing through three equally spaced silver spheres.

"What's going on?" she asked confusedly. She looked from the talisman around Josef's neck to the golden ring circling the arch and platform. She felt her heart racing again. Her throat was dry, and she felt as though she was about to be sick. "No..." she said softly. "No, it can't be. I―"

She was having trouble breathing. Her legs were still shaky and as she stepped back, she stumbled and only barely caught herself on the edge of the higher terrace behind her. After steadying herself, she drew her wand again and aimed it at both of them.

Tarus had arranged the circumstances which led to her job. He was the one who'd introduced her to Henri D'Anneau. Henri had been a member of the Brotherhood. That was why he had let himself be scolded by Tarus. He had been doing what Tarus told him. That is why he never expected the Brotherhood to come for him. All the guards around the Romanian camp, they'd been there to stop Harry, not the Brotherhood. They _were_ the Brotherhood.

And Harry had known. He'd known the whole time. He'd told her that morning to stay away from all of them, even Tarus. He'd told her that the Brotherhood would do anything to keep themselves hidden. They would even appoint her to an archaic position to keep her from being interrogated by her own Ministry. The Brotherhood had sent Hermione away, knowing Harry would follow, and knowing that he wouldn't return in time to make sure she stayed in London.

Ginny clenched her teeth and gripped her wand tightly. She tried to get a look at the rest of the room. There was only one set of doors, only one set of stairs leading to them, and both Tarus and Josef were standing between her and those stairs. He had called her to Romania, separated her from Harry, and lured her into the heart of his stronghold. She was trapped in the most dangerous place she could imagine.

"Please remain calm, Ginny," Tarus said. He took a step toward her, and she bristled. "You are in no danger here, I assure you."

"Then let me go," she growled.

Tarus slowly held up his hands in a gesture of peace, and softly ordered Josef to put away his wand. Josef did as he was told, slowly and calmly.

"You are free to go, if you wish," Tarus assured her. "Josef will see you to any place in this city you might wish to go, even if that is to the fireplace in the Gatehouse which would return you to London. Though, if that is your destination, you may save yourself and Josef some time by simply using the Portkey I have prepared. It is in my study."

"I don't want _anything_ from you. _Let me go._"

"I did not bring you here to imprison you," he said gently. "I brought you here to show you things others would hide from you and to give you the answers which others have refused to reveal. There are many things I would speak to you about, things we should have discussed when you were last here."

He slowly stepped toward Ginny, looking more relaxed. "Of course, if you still wish to attack us, I would suggest attacking Josef first. He is young and well trained; I am not nearly so quick, as you have seen just a moment ago, nor am I any match for you physically."

Josef opened his cloak and carefully pulled his wand out, showing her that he had no intention of using it. As slowly as he could, he kneeled down, and laid his wand on the stone floor. He stood back up, and spoke gently to her, "We are not enemies. I would not dream of harming you. You have trusted me twice before. Trust me once again. Listen to what he has to say."

"Why should I? You _tried to kill me!_"

"A most regrettable occurrence," Tarus apologized. "I'm afraid Tiberiu misinterpreted the situation. Seeing the fighting, he assumed that Stefan had killed Lawrence. He thought he was protecting you. He has since realized his error."

"Has he? And what happened to him?" Ginny asked, keeping her wand trained on Tarus. "What will you do with me if I don't 'realize my error'?"

"Nothing at all," he answered in a voice that sounded almost sad. "I will do nothing at all, and that might be worse than anything you could possibly imagine."

"So what do you want from me?"

"Perhaps we can speak somewhere else," Tarus suggested, "somewhere a little more comfortable for all of us?"

Ginny lowered her wand, but didn't put it away. It was clear that she'd get nowhere while she was threatening the two of them. Josef slowly bent down to pick up his wand. Ginny's arm twitched, but he slipped it back into his robe and turned to walk away. Tarus followed him, showing absolutely no concern over turning his back on Ginny. Warily, she followed them.

As she climbed the stairs, she couldn't help feeling like she was walking from one trap to another. She didn't even know where she was. How was this any different than being a prisoner. If she attacked them, the rest of the Brotherhood would hunt her down. The only other option was to follow them and hope that she'd be able to find some other way out. It didn't seem likely that he'd just let her walk away.

They led her back up the stairs and into the large, circular hall. From there, they turned and walked up one of the sets of stairs. At the top of the staircase, there was another pair of heavy iron doors. Josef paused and reached for his chest. Ginny watched as he held up the golden ring hanging from the chain around his neck. It flashed briefly, and the doors slowly swung open.

The rings were keys.

Tarus saw the recognition in her eyes, and nodded. "Their function is not related to the ring around the arch," he explained. "Their shape is merely a reminder of the dangers of the arch and our purpose in this world."

"And what exactly is that?"

"In time, I hope to explain it to you," said Tarus. "For now, let us say that it concerns what you just saw in the arch."

"Why do you care about Tom? He's gone," she snapped. Before he could reply, she thought of the most obvious answer. "That's why you want his wand, isn't it? Why do you want to resurrect him? Do you think he'll tell you how he almost became immortal? It didn't work, you know."

"Tom Riddle?" Tarus asked curiously. "That is who you saw? Curious." He stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "And you are quite right. Voldemort is irrevocably dead. However, his influence and power live on." Ginny followed silently as they walked up numerous stairs and down long corridors. As they walked, they passed by numerous other wizards, all wearing the long grey robes of the Brotherhood, and wearing a chain looped through a golden ring talisman. Eventually they stopped at another set of iron doors. Josef raised the ring talisman again, unlocking the doors in front of them. Tarus and Josef stood aside, gesturing for Ginny to enter the room.

It was another circular room, with three doorways leading to it. In the center of the room was a sunken pit holding a large fire. Around the fire were circular rows of benches, all looking inward. At each of the doorways, a pair of guards stood wearing the purple robes of the city guards. Tarus and Josef walked in behind her.

"Josef, we'll need some privacy," Tarus ordered in a soft voice. Josef called out to the other guards, and they all quickly responded, leaving through the doors they were guarding.

"Will there be anything else, Grigore?"

"No, Josef, I think that will be fine," Tarus answered. "Please wait outside the main door in case Ginny decides that she would like to leave."

Josef gave a quick bow and then walked toward one set of doors which, unlike the other two doorways, was framed with a large golden arch. Once he had left, Tarus pulled out his wand and waved it casually, making the benches vanish. In their place, two soft chairs appeared, with a small table between them and a pair of teacups. He calmly walked forward and took a seat in one of the chairs.

"Come, sit down," he invited. "Have some tea. It will calm your nerves."

"I think I'll stand if it's all the same," Ginny replied tensely. "And my nerves are doing just fine." She had trusted him, and now she was shut in a room with Brotherhood wizards guarding all of the doors. The differences between her current situation and imprisonment were tenuous at best.

"I understand your hostility, Ginny, but now is no time to act rashly. There are important things we must discuss, and they will require both of us to think clearly and rationally. There are many questions I can answer for you, but only if you are willing to ask."

"Why did you lie to me?" she snapped.

"I have not lied to you," Tarus declared. "If I have given you false information it is because I myself did not know the truth."

"What about Giza? You told me D'Anneau was found with an Egyptian witch and her family killed him when they found out."

"I am certain I did not. That was merely the story told by others. I said only that a group of wizards discovered what he'd done, and came to fix the problem, and that was true. I had warned Henri to remain focused. He was there to allow me to speak with you. In return, I would help him win his vote. He stayed away from you, but could not resist other temptations. When we heard what was happening, I sent my guards to stop him. He did not need to die, but he knew I would not allow him to return to France."

"So you killed him?"

"He chose his punishment, not I."

Ginny narrowed her eyes and asked, "What about everything you said to me? You talked about the Brotherhood, but you never said you were one of them."

"And I am not. I do not wear their cloak or carry their sign."

"What are you then?" Ginny pressed. "They follow you like a leader ―or a lord."

"I am no lord," Tarus insisted. "I am their teacher. They do what I ask only out of respect and trust. I guide them and counsel them and nothing more."

"Did you _counsel_ them to kill Sabine D'Anneau?"

"They did what was necessary!" he replied, raising his voice momentarily, then turned back to his tea. "You need to understand this, Ginny," he said in a calmer voice. "Henri was a despicable wizard, but he understood the base nature of the world. I could find no one else. I needed him, and Sabine was his payment. I did not want her to die. I would have been pleased to let her take his place, but she would not. She threatened to destroy it all. Henri did not deserve life. Sabine did not deserve death. Is peace not worth such things?"

"That's not peace at all!" Ginny shouted. "That's murder! How did killing Sabine or her family save anyone's life? Who are you to decide who's life is worth taking in order to pursue your twisted notions of peace?"

"Who else can give the world peace? Can you? Who else is prepared to do what it takes to see that the world heals? We are standing on the brink right now, Ginny! Who else will step forward? Who else will see that it is done, no matter how difficult it might be?"

"Is that it, then?" Ginny laughed bitterly. "You wish to be the savior again? You wish to lead us against the great darkness? How many of us will survive this time? Will my family get a cartload of gold, or will they just find themselves under the boot of a new Dark Lord?"

"Those are interesting comments," Tarus replied. "I wonder who you have been talking to. Did your friend tell you the rest of the story? Did he tell you how we prevented Europe from falling to a cult of dark wizards? How many murders did we prevent? Hundreds? Thousands? The Brotherhood told me what they were doing, and I told them how to accomplish it. Those peasant fools couldn't understand. I had no choice but to kill them. By taking their lives, I saved the lives of countless others."

"You're no different than every other dark wizard," Ginny spat. "You'd bring peace by killing all those who fight you. That's not peace. That's tyranny."

"No, Ginny, that is nature," he said. "We bring balance to a world that seeks to unbalance itself. Those dark wizards were not just seeking riches. They wanted control. They wanted to bend Europe to their will. Such a desire is a crime against nature, and yet it is no worse than trying to eradicate all such evil from the world. That is why we have not destroyed the Death Eaters. Britain needs them."

"Needs them?" Ginny exclaimed. "What have they done other than torture and kill innocent wizards?"

Tarus gave her a quizzical look. "You speak as if those are not desirable things. Without them, what would your Aurors do? Without the Aurors, who would protect you from the next threat? No, you need them more than you know. The minute number of crimes they commit keep you vigilant. They keep you fighting. Without that, you would become content and lazy like the villagers who died in the dragon attacks just a few months ago."

Ginny stared at him in shock. "What are you saying? You knew about the dragons, and you didn't stop them?"

"Stop them?" Tarus laughed. "I ordered them to be set loose. The fields around those villages are extremely fertile, but the wizards refused to allow anyone to use them. Their wealth had made them arrogant, and they protected themselves with gold and hid behind my guards. Dragons care nothing for gold, and without the Brotherhood to protect them, they found out just how weak they had become."

"You're worse than a dark lord," Ginny said in shock. "You're a tyrant. You don't care about anyone but yourself."

"I am no tyrant," he said sternly. "You simply do not understand. I serve the natural order of the world. I have spent decades selflessly ensuring that the world is not twisted to the darkness or left to whither in the light. I am no dark lord, nor am I your enemy. We share a common goal."

Ginny sneered at him, "Unless you're talking about getting good seats for the Quidditch World Cup, I seriously doubt that."

"Now is not the time for humor, _girl._ We fight the same enemy and we both seek Harry Potter."

Ginny felt an icy chill shoot down her spine. Harry knew about Tarus, but did Tarus know about Harry? "Harry Potter is dead," she announced. "He died fighting Lord Voldemort."

Tarus stood up, frowning quite sternly. "I can only hope that in fifty years death is treating me as well as it has treated him." He slowly walked toward her. "Nonetheless, I seek news of him, and you cannot deny that you do as well. I would be very interested in anything you would hear about him."

"I don't think we'll be speaking again," Ginny said almost flippantly. "I'm afraid Harrington keeps me rather busy, and I'll have the Quidditch World Cup to think about, you see―"

Tarus interrupted her with a smooth voice, "Perhaps there is something I might offer you, in exchange for some of your _very valuable_ time."

"I don't think you have anything to offer me."

"Don't be foolish, girl," he scolded her. "Whatever you believe my motives might be, you and I are hunting the same dark wizard. I can help you defeat him."

"You know him, do you?" Ginny replied, trying not to let him hear the tightness in her throat. "He's one of your students, isn't he?"

"No, no," Tarus replied. He began pacing and spoke as if remembering things that happened long ago. "Not any more. I trained him at one time, but I don't think he was ever truly my student," he commented. "He turned his back on us long ago, taking a number of my best students with him. He serves no master but his own darkness, now."

Ginny gave him a skeptical look. "And just what are you offering? If you needed my help, you would be be offering information to me. If you do not need my help, then you are offering nothing at all."

"Finally, you are using your wits. I offer you justice, the opportunity to correct a tragedy. Above all, I desire your safety, but I will forego that in exchange for the location of Harry Potter."

"No," Ginny replied. "Name something else, some other price."

Tarus stopped pacing. "There is no other thing which I would take in payment."

Ginny voice was laden with frustration and anger, "It's not possible. Harry is gone."

"That may be, and that news itself would satisfy me."

"So why aren't satisfied now?" Ginny replied.

"Because I cannot be certain that what you say is true," he answered simply. "Certainly _you_ can understand my skepticism of wizards who are only reportedly dead."

"And what would convince you? A grave? A body? To see him on the other side of that arch? Is that what you want?"

Grigore Tarus spun around faster than she'd ever seen him move. He glared at her for a moment, and Ginny began to wonder whether he was trying to read her thoughts. Seconds later, he turned away.

"No― No, that is the last thing I would wish for," he said heavily. "What would make me happy is to see Harry alive and speaking with me in my study. Do not be deceived, Ginevra. I do not seek Harry to destroy him. I want to find him ―I need to find him― to protect him, and to protect the rest of the wizarding world."

"The only thing you want to protect is your own power," Ginny spat.

"As do you," Tarus shot back. Ginny could see that he was beginning to lose his patience. "You call it vengeance, but that is nothing more than the power to inflict your will on those you believe have wronged you, calling it _justice_. You have stood in judgment of them, and declared their lives to be of no more worth to this world. Is that so different from what I have done?" He stepped very close to her and stared into her eyes. "You and I are not so different, Ginevra. I can give you your vengeance, if you help me give the world peace."

Ginny stared up into his eyes defiantly. "No, we are not alike. I want justice to correct a mistake which you had a hand in creating. I don't want anything else. Even if I could give you what you want, it wouldn't satisfy you. You'd only protect him while he could give you more power."

"Your eyes see much, but they are still too young to see the truth through the fog of emotion. I am older than I appear," he said, holding up an age-whithered hand. "Unlike Lord Voldemort, I do not desire immortality. I know I will not live to see you become the great leader I know you will be. What power could I gather in what remains of my life?"

"Too much," Ginny said.

"On the contrary, I fear that my task is already an impossible one," Tarus admitted. "Our enemy's strength is beyond my own, and his grows while mine dwindles. My only hope lies in finding Harry Potter."

"I guess you're out of luck, then," she said flatly.

Tarus took a deep breath. "So, you will not aid me? You will not tell me where Harry is?"

"Harry's dead."

Tarus's face fell into a deep frown. "I am truly sorry to hear that." He walked back toward the chairs, and stared at Ginny's full cup of tea. "There is still the matter of the arch. You said that you saw Tom Riddle in the mirror. I wonder if you might discuss that with me."

"I think we've spoken enough today," Ginny said stiffly. "I think I should be returning to London."

Tarus frowned again, then nodded. "Very well. I will have Josef take you to my study. There is a Portkey there which will take you to London. You are the Romanian Liaison, and it is there for your use. If you should ever have information for me, all you need to do is find your way to the Gatehouse. The guards will bring you here, and the Portkey can return you. No one will need to know that you ever left London."

Ginny stood still for a moment, struggling to decide just what the best course of action would be. Would Tarus really allow her to leave? Harry had told her to leave, but he didn't know about the Portkey. If the it worked, he might not find out that she'd left for some time. She knew what would happen if he thought that Ginny was being kept in the Castle.

"I think I'll just use the Floo, if you don't mind," Ginny said hesitantly. "I think I've lost any trust I had in Portkeys."

"I understand," Tarus said with a slow nod. He took out his wand, and aimed it at the main doors. A bolt of sparks shot out of the tip, and struck the iron doors, making them glow gently. A second later, they opened, and Josef walked in, now wearing the purple robes of the guards and a warm smile.

"Is there something Miss Weasley needs?" he asked in a comfortable tone.

"Josef, take a number of guards and escort Ginny to the Gatehouse," Tarus ordered. "Let no one stop you or slow you down."

Josef nodded and bowed to Ginny. When he rose, Ginny was still standing where she had been, wondering if there was something she had missed. Were they just going to let her leave? Reluctantly, she turned and walked toward Josef, looking back over her shoulder to see what Tarus was doing. He had sat back down in the chair and was sipping at the last of his tea.

Ginny followed Josef and as they passed through the iron doors, he barked out some order to one of the guards flanking the arch. The guard ran ahead and disappeared around a corner. Josef didn't pay any more attention to him and instead began walking alongside Ginny, only slightly ahead of her. The reached the end of the corridor and made sharp turn, followed by another that led up a large staircase. At the top, they passed through another large set of locked iron doors, and into a large marble hall.

The moment they stepped into the hall, eight purple-cloaked guards stepped forward to form two columns on either side of them. The doors behind them closed tightly, and when Ginny looked at them again, she saw that on this side, they were made of the same rose-colored marble as the rest of the walls. They had passed into the main part of the Castle now, and in confirmation of this, Ginny began to see other witches and wizards walking about.

There were no more grey cloaked wizards. The wizards there wore the common black or brown robes, with the occasional white or green. The guards still stood out in their purple robes and Ginny did not forget that every last one of them was a Brotherhood wizard.

Her mind tried to process everything that had happened. Harry had said that the head of the Brotherhood was a dark wizard, and something had felt off about Tarus. He'd always been so controlled the other times she'd seen him, but today, there had been a few moments where his facade had cracked, showing anger and impatience. It had felt almost as if Tarus himself were cracking. Ginny wondered just what he had been hiding all this time.

Without much warning, Ginny found herself walking out of the main gate and onto the High Street. Below her she could see the city stretching out to the horizon. Far away was the Gatehouse and the tower where she had slept the night before. That was where they were taking her, without stopping and without giving her any opportunity to do anything else.

In a flash, she realized what Tarus was doing. He was keeping her from Harry. He knew Harry wasn't dead. He never would have asked if he didn't. He had told her that she could leave, but he was going to make certain that either Harry wouldn't know she left, or it would look like she left with the Brotherhood. Either situation would prompt Harry into action, and that was undoubtedly just what Tarus wanted.

She needed to find Harry. As she walked, Ginny tried to remember the directions she'd been given while thinking of some way to get away from the guards before she'd need them. The guards were probably hoping Harry would try to stop them before they reached the Gatehouse. As soon as Ginny started to see shops appearing on either side of the street, she knew she had to act quickly. She had a plan, but she wasn't certain if it would work. It didn't matter. It was the best she could think of.

She waited for a lull in the crowd, and unceremoniously stopped in the middle of the street. The guards froze immediately and pulled their wands. At the front of the group, Josef did the same and shouted to the wizards nearby to clear the street. They did as they were told, and soon the street was completely quiet.

"What is it, Ginny?" Josef asked, looking more than a little paranoid.

"You can turn back now," she said in a condescending voice.

"You want to return to the Castle?"

"No," she said flatly, "I want _you_ to return to the Castle."

Josef looked confused. "I was ordered to take you to the Gatehouse."

Ginny glared imperiously at him. "And now I'm ordering you to leave me and return to the Castle. Don't forget that I am the Liaison to Romania, and you are just a guard."

Josef looked from Ginny to the Castle and back. It would take them some time to return. The frustrated look on his face confirmed Ginny's hope that they had no easier way to communicate with Tarus. "I could disobey you," he said in a strained voice.

"You could," Ginny agreed, "and I would tell my Minister. He would renounce my title, and the Department of Mysteries would interrogate me. Would you like to be the one who was responsible for that?"

Josef glared at her. "I'm trying to help you," he growled. "There is more at stake than you understand. This is not the time to play games."

"I'm not playing games, Josef," she replied gently.

Josef glared at her. "This is serious, Ginny. You don't know what you're doing."

She flashed a mocking smile. "And neither do you. That's the part I like best."

Josef hissed an order to the guards. They turned to stare at him, and he shouted at them. They immediately turned and began running back to the Castle. Josef remained behind. "You cannot imagine the danger you're putting yourself in."

"I don't care, you traitorous bastard," she hissed. "Now run along back to your Castle. I'm sure your master will be glad to see you return so soon." Josef stared back at her, looking almost hurt. His eyes searched Ginny's face, as if looking for the answer to some mystery there. Finding only scorn, he turned and broke into a swift run. At his pace, it wouldn't take long for him to reach Tarus. She was beginning to worry that it wouldn't be enough time. How far away was Harry? If he was smart, he'd have picked some place halfway between the Castle and the Gatehouse. That would have the greatest chance of being close by, and was still a ways down the Street. If the guards were running, she needed to cover as much ground as possible, and she began to jog down the street, checking the shop fronts as she went.

Harry had said she should look for a shop selling the first gift he'd gotten from Kreacher. She remembered that Christmas well. That was the first time she'd thought that Harry might have started noticing her. She'd picked a maggot from his hair, and Ron had told everyone about Kreacher's gift. She jogged down the street, zigzagging to get a better look at the stores. When the pain in her side grew too intense, she slowed to a walk and started looking closer. It had to be there someplace. There wasn't much more time. She was certain the guards would be coming back for her.

Suddenly she saw it. A shop front a little ways down the street: a large glass window with a cauldron full of maggots. It was much easier to spot since the crowd was keeping well away from it. Over the window there was a large wooden sign carved in Romanian. Ginny couldn't read it, but there was a smaller sign underneath, with a Translation Charm which read: _Thorlag's Potion Supply._

Ginny began walking toward it, but before she'd gotten two steps, she felt someone collide with her, sending them both to the ground. Ginny rolled away and pulled her wand out of her robes, With her attacker still lying on the street, she scrambled to her feet and took aim with her wand.

"Ginny, wait!" Hermione shouted. "I'm sorry!"

Ginny goggled at the witch laying nearby. Why was Hermione here? Harry hadn't said anything about her being in Romania. Ginny looked about nervously, pocketed her wand and then quickly helped Hermione to her feet. The crowd around them had stopped to watch the action, and Ginny was quick to lead them down the street where less people were watching.

"Why are you here?" Ginny asked.

"I have to talk with you, Ginny. It's urgent."

"Alright then," Ginny agreed reluctantly. "What is it? I don't really have time for any more privacy than this."

"It's about Harry," Hermione said. Ginny's head jerked instinctually. "He's here isn't he, Ginny?"

"Harry?" Ginny repeated nervously. She looked around her. The guards might show up at any moment. Despite the thickening crowd, Ginny began to feel very exposed. There was no telling who might be watching or listening to them.

"We shouldn't be seen together," Ginny whispered. She surveyed the area, hoping for some easy answer. "See that pub across the street? I'll meet you there in thirty minutes. If I don't make it, I'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron." Ginny turned and started walking away.

"Wait!" Hermione called out. "What about Harry?" A number of wizards stopped or turned to look at Hermione.

Ginny stopped to stare at Hermione. "Harry's dead, Hermione. I accept that now. I'll see you later."

Ginny ducked through the crowd and checked the area one last time before quickly walking to the front door of Thorlag's Potion Supply. She couldn't see anyone, so she darted toward the door and quickly slipped inside. The shop was not nearly as empty as she had hoped it might be. At the front of the store was a large counter, tended by a very old looking goblin. He glared at her, then returned to counting out newt tails.

She ducked into the aisles of various grotesque looking bottles. She wondered just what she was supposed to do when the goblin found her. It wasn't like she'd be able to walk back out onto the street. As she reached the end of the aisle, she felt something tug at her hand.

She looked down and found a very small goblin pulling her toward a back corner. When they got there, he jumped up and grabbed a large bottle of yellowish liquid. With a squat little arm, he rolled it down the aisle toward the front of the store. As it rolled he pushed a table aside and ran his hand along a patch of cracked paint on the wall. A small door appeared and opened, creating a space barely large enough for Ginny to crawl through. The goblin quickly disappeared into the door. Ginny dropped down to her knees and wondered whether it would even be possible for her to fit through the tiny door.

Suddenly there was a crash behind her. She turned and saw the bottle of yellow liquid broken and it's contents spilling across the floor and sending a large yellow haze into the air.

"Stun gas!" the goblin at the front croaked. "Clear the store!"

Ginny heard a great shuffling of feet, along with the sound of several wizards dropping to the floor. Suddenly she began thinking this had been some sort of trap. The cloud was now moving toward her quickly. She bent down and stuck her head through the hole.

She felt a stout hand push her backwards, and a second later, the goblin's head poked back through the hole, glaring at her. "Feet first!" it squeaked.

Ginny looked back and saw the cloud only a few feet away. She didn't have much time to argue. She spun around and slipped her legs through the small doorway. A faint yellow mist slipped in front of her, and she began feeling a little disoriented. She tried feebly to push herself through the hole, but she didn't have the strength.

Then, in one dizzying second, she felt something tug at her legs. She quickly slipped through the hole, roughly scraping her arms against the sides. She felt a moment of weightlessness and then the crushing blow of her feet on dusty ground. She landed on her back and watched as a pair of goblins snapped the door shut with a puff of yellow vapor.

She was lying on the ground about eight feet under the door she'd just slid through. The sky was above her, as well as quite a few shops. They had been built upon pillars and scaffolding in order to reach the level of the High Street. The smaller goblin who had helped her was now trying to push her into a sitting position.

"Hurry, hurry," it told her in a high pitched voice. "Potter is very worried. Follow the alley. Take the second left turn, then then next right turn. Find the empty store by the rag shop." Once he had finished relaying his message, he scampered off under the store, leaving Ginny disoriented and confused.

She slowly stood up, and tried to shake the fogginess from her head. Loud noises from the store behind her reminded her just what she was doing there and she forced herself to run down the street, searching for the second alleyway to the left. She found it, and the next alley to her right. She followed that narrow street until she could see the end of it. To her right, she saw a shop with two large heaps of rags in the front window. Next to it was an old broom shop which looked as though it had been boarded up for years. Ginny ran forward and knocked on the door. Seconds later, the door opened partly and a strong hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her into the shop.

This shop wasn't nearly so clean as the last one Harry had used. There were broken tables and chairs strewn about the dusty floor. The room she was in had obviously been the main room in the shop. To one side there was a door leading to what looked to be a stock room, and in the back there was a door to some sort of back office.

Ginny stumbled over a broken broom stand, and found a chair to sit in. After a few deep breaths, she looked up and found Harry sitting in a chair nearby looking both relieved and terribly worried. For some time he just stared at the floor, looking slightly ill.

"Did Grigore talk with you?" he asked quietly.

Ginny nodded as she tried to catch her breath.

"Did he show it to you?"

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked.

Harry leaned forward, running his hands through his hair. "Did he take you to the veil? Did he have you listen to it?"

"Yes," she replied in a hoarse voice, "and then he introduced me to the Brotherhood." Harry leaned back in his seat, but kept his eyes one the floor, as if waiting for Ginny to continue. "Why couldn't you tell me, Harry?" she finally asked.

"I wanted to," he said weakly. "I tried―"

"_You tried?_" Ginny snapped. "When did you try Harry? You had a whole day to mention it, but you didn't. You even mentioned him and the head of the Brotherhood in the same sentence as if they were two completely different people!"

Harry didn't deny it or even try to explain himself. "How much did he tell you? Did you talk about the wand?"

"The wand?" Ginny exclaimed. "No, I can't say it was a big topic of discussion. I don't really care that he's got Tom's wand. You're the only thing he wants now."

Harry sat up and finally looked into Ginny's eyes. "You didn't talk about the wand or the attack on the Ministry?"

"No," Ginny replied dismissively.

Harry shot out of his chair and started mumbling, "Doesn't he know? Why wouldn't they tell him? He's made a mistake..."

"What are you talking about?"

"He doesn't know," Harry announced as though it meant something to Ginny. "I need to find Hermione. She needs to know that I'm alive."

"She already knows you're alive," Ginny told him.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "She does?"

"Yes, she does," repeated Ginny. "She's here, looking for you."

"She couldn't be―" he said to himself. "You saw her here? In the city?"

"Just a few minutes ago."

Harry strode across the room and started grabbing things and stuffing them into his bag. "Where _exactly_ did you see her?" he asked as he quickly pulled off his robes to reveal the Muggle clothing he had been wearing underneath.

"I-I don't really know. Not far from the potion shop, I think," Ginny stammered. "What's going on, Harry?"

Harry wrapped a cloak around his shoulders and tossed another cloak to Ginny. "Which _side_ of the shop," he asked. "On the High Street or in the alleyway?"

"The High Street," she answered. "I didn't tell her anything. I told her I'd meet her in one of the pubs in a half hour. She didn't follow me, I'm certain."

"It won't matter," Harry said hurriedly, "but we still might have some time. In the back room you'll find some Muggle clothes. Change into them as quickly as you can. We need to leave as quickly as possible."

"Why? Are we going to find Hermione?"

Harry frowned. "That wasn't Hermione. I never found Hermione in Albania. It was all a trick to get me away from you. She couldn't know that either of us were here. You were talking to a Brotherhood member, probably using Polyjuice potion. You need to go get changed."

* * *

Ginny had looked confused and frightened as she walked past him to the back office. The door closed only loosely, so he avoided approaching it at all. There were too many things on his mind. At the moment, the thought of a wizard masquerading as Hermione and leading the whole Brotherhood to his new hiding spot, wasn't even his greatest worry. 

Tarus had brought her here. He must not have spoken to her much the previous night. Whatever had happened in the morning, she had gotten his message. Tarus had spoken with her. He'd told her about the Brotherhood, but he hadn't told her everything. Then he'd let her go. He must have hoped that he'd be able to catch them both.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to control his anxiety. Something was changing. Grigore never gambled like that. It wasn't like him at all. He could have told her about the wand. He _should_ have told her. What was he trying to do? Was he trying to convince her to join him? Why would he risk that?

Harry stepped into the old stock room and grabbed the small bag of food he had stashed there. It should only take them a day, but he had no idea how hungry Ginny might be. He strode back into the main room and stuffed the food into his bag.

"Leaving already, Harry?"

Harry felt panic stabbing into his chest. He slowly turned around, his hand already inside his cloak and only inches from his wand. Standing just inside the door was Grigore Tarus and Razvan Lupescu. They had been waiting for him with their wands drawn. Harry slowly pulled out his wand, but kept it at his side.

"Good morning, Harry," Grigore greeted him lightly.

Harry glared at him. "You're not welcome here, Grigore."

"Neither are you, Harry," he replied. "Remember, we are in Romania."

The door to the back office creaked, and Harry saw both of the wizards train their wands on the door. They knew about Ginny. This was exactly why he'd refused to let her join him. If Tarus made him chose between her and him...

"Don't come in, Ginny!" he shouted to her. "There's a fireplace! Take it to Oradea Station! Go! I'll find you!"

Tarus and Razvan looked at each other, as they heard the sound of a fire flare to life. The younger wizard ran for the door, leaving Harry with Grigore. A moment later, there was a second rush of flames.

"Together again, eh Grigore?" Harry said with mocking smile. "I thought you were too smart and too cautious to let this happen."

"Things are not as you expect Harry," the old wizard replied. "This is my city. I still have the advantage."

With a flash of red hair, Ginny stepped out of the stock room and pressed the tip of her wand into Tarus's temple. "Not today you don't," she said through her teeth.

Grigore didn't flinch. He kept his eyes on Harry, and his wand ready but pointing at the floor. "What a pleasant surprise, Ginny," he said with a faint laugh. "I see that, much like Harry, you are not burdened with the desire to tell the truth."

Even as he spoke, the door to the shop burst open. Though he'd tried to prepare himself, he couldn't help but pause at the sight of Hermione. She strode toward them and aimed her wand directly at Ginny's chest, through the gap in her untied cloak.

"Put the wand down, Ginny," she said. "We don't want to hurt you."

"It's not her!" Harry reminded her. "She's one of _them._"

Ginny scowled at Grigore. "I thought you said I was free to go?" she said through clenched jaws.

"I did, and you still are," he said without taking his eyes off Harry, "but I cannot let you go with him. I promised your brother that I would keep you safe."

"Yes, you promised him, and then you had him killed!" she shouted. "Did you think I would believe that you'd let one of your cult members betray you? After all the wizards you've killed?" Harry could see her eyes getting red and glassy. Her wand arm shook as she continued, "You said Charlie was led astray, but he wasn't, was he? He found out what you were, and you had him killed when he tried to stop you."

Harry felt as though his stomach was filled with lead. He looked into Grigore's eyes and saw the dark laughter behind them. Harry felt a hot anger boiling inside him.

"I told you the truth, Ginny," Grigore declared. "I had sent a group of wizards to the Ministry the day your brother died. Charlie wanted to go with them, but I forbade it. He did betray me that day, but he also betrayed you, himself, and the rest of the wizarding world." Grigore paused fixed Harry with an icy stare. "She didn't have to know, Harry. It could have been hidden, a lost detail in a sea of tragic events."

"You used him! You knew he would disobey you! You knew he was going to the Ministry!" Harry shouted. "I tried to protect him! I tried to save him! You only cared about him because you could use him to get to her!"

"Where is the wand, Harry?" Grigore snarled. "Where is that trinket which was worth so much more than her brother's life? Has it provided either of you with any safety? Has it shown _any_ worth? Was it worth killing him, Harry?"

He didn't know what to say. The look of pain and betrayal on Ginny's face was everything he had expected it would be, and there wasn't anything he could do to to fix it. He couldn't say that it wasn't him, or that he didn't know it was Charlie, or that he hadn't meant to cast the charm. It was all true. Harry had replayed that moment in his head a thousand times. There had been no way he could have seen that result. He hadn't done anything wrong. He'd cast hundreds of Reductor Curses. It shouldn't have been strong enough to bring down half the ceiling.

Grigore turned his head and called out to Ginny, "Do you see it now? Can't you feel the darkness growing in him? This is only a hint of what it will be like before the end. I told you that a time would come for you to make a choice. _This_ is that time, Ginevra. _Help me._ I do not want to kill him. Help me take him to the Castle. He doesn't know what he's doing. With your help we can stop this before anyone else is killed."

Harry stared at Ginny, trying to figure out what she might be thinking. She didn't even look at Grigore. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, as if she were trying to decide just what to do. A single tear squeezed out of one of her eyes, and slowly traveled down her cheek. She turned away from Harry and lowered her wand.

Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. The witch who looked like Hermione relaxed a little, but didn't lower her wand. Then he noticed it. Ginny had grabbed the edge of her Shield Cloak and pulled it out a bit, draping it over her arm like a more conventional shield. She was looking away from him. _She doesn't want them to notice,_ he told himself. His heart began beating faster. He tried to hide his anxiety behind a mask of anger.

"Will you come peacefully, Harry?" Grigore asked. "It has been some time since we last spoke. Even then, you left in anger before hearing everything I had to say. Will you listen now? If you will not, I―"

Before he could finish, Harry sprang toward the wall focusing all his will and shouting, "_Stupefy_!" Grigore ducked and twisted away, seeking shelter behind a large, empty bookcase. The witch impostor cast a quick Shield Charm, but there was no need. The red beam of light slammed right into Ginny's side, tossing her against the front wall of the shop. Harry ducked behind a large counter and took aim at the empty bookcase.

"_Incendio!_"

The old, dry wood lit quickly and easily, burning much faster than even Harry had expected. Seconds later, a pair of powerful hexes exploded against the counter and wall behind him, showering him with bits of wood and stone. Someone ran across the floor, and then Harry heard the sound of the door opening and closing quickly. He took a chance and peeked over the remnant of the counter to survey the room.

He ducked back down a second later as a jet of purple sparks shot past his head, striking the wall behind him. Grigore had escaped, but the impostor had remained. She was only there to slow him down long enough for the others could show up. He probably had mere seconds, but he still had a surprise.

After taking a few deep breaths, he leaped out from behind the counter and dove for the door to the back office. He ducked one hex, and another ripped the door from its hinges just after he had slipped through the doorway. He quickly ran to the fireplace and found the bag of Floo powder spilled across the ground. He gathered a handful and tossed it at the small crackling fire still burning behind on the hearth. He heard a voice call out over the roar of the green flames.

"Harry, stop!"

Harry turned and stood up straight. The witch standing before him had her wand drawn and was aiming directly at his head. "Those cloaks won't protect you from everything, and I've trained dozens of wizards in hexes you've never even heard of," she said. "Now, step away from the fire, and come back to the Castle. Grigore is a man of his word. He isn't planning on killing you."

"I'm sure he isn't," Harry replied stonily, "but he's done loads of things he didn't plan to, and I've never been good at following his orders. Do it now. There's no time to think about it."

"You're right. There isn't," she said remorsefully. "I wish it hadn't come to this, Harry."

Harry just kept staring directly at the witch. "I promise you, it's not her."

The witch paused. "It's not her? What do―"

Another woman's voice rang out: "_Enfracto!_"

The room echoed with a tortured scream as the witch collapsed onto the floor. She clutched at her thigh tightly as her voice trailed off to a hoarse moan. Harry kneeled down next to her and watched with grim satisfaction as she gasped in agony. "Tell Grigore to back off. Tell him to stay away from her," he said in a firm voice. The witch didn't respond, but she turned her pale face to Ginny and glared at her from behind twitching eyelids. Harry kicked the witch's leg, causing her to scream in renewed pain. "This is between him and me," he told her. Harry grabbed the witch's wand as he stood up, and used it to direct Ginny to the fireplace.

"Go on, you first," he told her. "Ask for Oradea Station."

Ginny didn't say a thing, but walked quickly to the fireplace. With a burst of green flame, she was gone. He scooped up another handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fireplace. Harry took one last look at the witch on the floor. With her watching, he put the tip of his wand to hers. A second later, her wand burst into flame. Harry held it for a moment, watching the wood singe and twist in the fire until he heard the crackling of the unicorn hair in the core. He tossed it onto what was left of the Floo Powder, and it erupted in a flash of smoke and sparks.

As he walked to the fireplace, he heard voices calling out from the other room. Calmly he stepped into the flames, and called out, "Oradea Station!"

* * *

He rolled out of the fireplace at Oradea station. There was a small crowd of wizards milling about in the small lobby, but no one took much notice of Harry. He looked about quickly and found Ginny crouched in a corner with her hood up and eyes looking toward the floor. She looked up as he approached and Harry felt his heart twist at the pain in her eyes. 

"Come on, there's no time," he said softly. "They'll be coming for us." Ginny held out her hand and Harry gently pulled her to her feet. As they walked toward a large door at the other end of the lobby, Harry pulled off his cloak. He told her to do the same and slipped both cloaks into his bag. At the door, he stopped and pointed his wand at Ginny. She recoiled, letting out a faint shriek.

"It's alright," Harry reassured her, "we just need a little disguise." He touched his wand to her hair, and it slowly turned from its normal fiery red to a deep black. Then he turned his wand on his own hair, and it lightened and grew longer, covering his forehead and extending down to his shoulders. He put his wand away and then carefully removed his glasses. After fumbling about in his bag, he slid them into a pocket and slung his bag over his back again.

"I'll need you to lead us," he whispered. "I won't be able to see a thing."

The walked out the door and into a small, dusty train station. There were only six platforms, but there were quite a few people walking about purposefully.

"What are we doing in a Muggle train station, Harry?" Ginny asked. There was a troubling emptiness in her voice, but they didn't have time to deal with that yet.

"We're escaping," he told her simply.

She led him to the ticket counters, and he found a clerk who spoke English. He had the clerk recite the train schedules for all the next trains. Before he had finished, Harry stopped him and pulled some money from his wallet. It was far more than he needed, but he slid it across the counter to the clerk. "We need two tickets on the train to Arad."

"It is leaving in just three minutes," the clerk said. "There is another train to Tamisoara in just twenty minutes. It will stop in Arad as well."

"We'll take the earlier one, thanks,"

"You will want to run, then," the clerk said as he slid the tickets across the counter.

"That's exactly what I was hoping," Harry said as he grabbed the tickets and he let Ginny lead him out of the crowd. They ran through the masses and queues of Muggles toward the platform. As they approached their train, they passed a large map, and Ginny pulled up short.

"Harry! We're on the wrong train!" she hissed. "This one isn't leaving Romania. It's going back _into_ Romania!"

"I know," he said, urging her forward. Once on the train, they found a small compartment which was completely empty. They sat down in the seats and waited in tense silence to see if any Brotherhood wizards had followed them. When the train pulled out of the station a minute later, they finally relaxed.

Ginny slumped in her seat and stared out the window at the passing landscape. Harry tried to pretend that he found it beautiful, but he couldn't really concentrate much on it. After minutes of awkward silence, Ginny finally spoke up in a scratchy voice.

"Why are we going this way? Why couldn't we take the other train into Hungary?"

"They expect me to go that way. They always forget to watch the Muggle trains, but they'll probably figure it out this time. Still, they'll expect me to run for the closest fireplace on the British Floo Network and take the quickest route there. There's one in Budapest. They'll be there waiting for us, and they'll be on the train before then."

"Where are we going, then?"

"To Arad, where we'll board a train to Vienna," he answered. "We'll pass through Budapest hours after they expect us to, and by time we reach Vienna, they'll have given up looking for us."

Ginny nodded and returned to her window. Harry felt ill. He knew they had to talk about what Grigore had said, but he didn't know just how to start.

"Are you alight?" he asked, pointing at her arm. "It looks like you're bleeding."

Ginny looked down at the sleeve of her shirt and found a bright red stain showing through the yellow material. She frowned at it. "I'll be fine," she mumbled.

"I'm sorry if the curse was too strong, I... I needed to make sure you were out of the way."

"I know, Harry," she said with a little edge in her voice. "It was my idea, wasn't it?"

Harry turned away. "Yeah. I guess it was."

They fell silent for quite some time as both of them just stared out the window at the passing hills and trees. Harry knew he should be hungry, but his stomach was too knotted to think of actually eating anything.

"I'm supposed to hate you," Ginny finally said.

"Maybe you should," Harry replied, feeling even worse.

"It was all true, wasn't it?" Ginny asked. "You were the one who killed Charlie."

"Yes," he answered. "Yes, I killed him, but it wasn't like Grigore said. I was only trying to block the gate, but―"

"I know what happened," she interrupted him. "I saw it."

"You did?"

"Hermione showed it to me on... some sort of magical device. It was like a camera I guess."

"Oh," Harry replied, unsure of what else he was supposed to say.

"Aren't you going to say that you're sorry?" Ginny asked without any emotion.

"I'm sorry."

"That's it?" Ginny replied. "You're not going to say that you tried to keep it from happening, or that you wanted to run back and save him, or that you have felt simply horrible about it every day since it happened?"

Harry kept staring at her. "I did everything I could to prevent it. I wanted to run back and find some way to save him. I think about it every day, and it hurts just as much as it did the day it happened," he said defeatedly. "Does that make you feel any better?"

"No," Ginny replied as a tear ran down her face.

Harry turned back to the window. "It's never helped me either."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Sorry for the delay. My Beta has been having a couple of rough months and this chapter was rather complex. As you can see, it is rather important and there are quite a few very important things happening here. It should start answering many of your questions... and make you want to ask many more. Alas, that is the nature of the story. Feel free to ask me, if you like. People who ask me questions usually get answers, even if they aren't the answers they were looking for.


	16. Dragomir and Andros

**Chapter 16**

**Dragomir and Andos

* * *

**

The ride to Arad was quiet and uncomfortably uneventful. Ginny didn't ask him any more questions, and Harry didn't feel like forcing her talk about what had happened. He truly had wanted to tell her everything, but there were too many ways it might turn out badly. She spent most of the trip staring out the window, obviously trying to make sense of everything that had happened that day. Without anything else to do, Harry found himself doing the same thing.

What had happened with Hermione? She had been in the village, he was absolutely certain of that. He'd followed news of them across the country. They'd been at the inn the night before his visit. Why hadn't they gone to the castle? They must have heard the same rumors Harry had. What had stopped them? Even as he asked himself the question, he realized that he'd been thinking about it incorrectly from the very beginning.

There never had been any Death Eaters in the castle. He'd been there watching it well before Hermione arrived. No one had entered or exited the castle, yet somehow the ring had been placed in the cellar. The answers slowly arranged themselves in his head.

The ring and candle had been placed there before he'd arrived, and therefor well before Hermione had arrived. It had been just what he thought: a way to pull him away from Ginny. By making sure that Hermione never went to the castle, the Brotherhood got him to stay there for another day. If he had left a day earlier, he could have kept Ginny away from Tarus; if he'd left a day later, who knows what would have happened to her.

It had been planned out for some time. While all the talismans were identical, the chains they hung upon were not, and Harry easily recognized the one he'd found in that cellar. The last time he'd seen it, it had been hanging around Henri D'Anneau's neck. The message was clear: Tarus was planning to finish what he'd failed to do at Giza. He was trying to convince Ginny to help him.

Something must have happened to make that harder than he thought. His thoughts caught on something Ginny had said earlier: she'd seen the veil. He'd taken her to listen to it. What had she heard or seen? Why hadn't she asked about it?

He was unable to stop thinking about it. Whatever it was, Tarus must not have been prepared for it. He wouldn't have revealed himself so quickly if he had. She would have been easier to convince. So, what _did_ she see? Why had it been different for her? What could that mean? Was the veil just another trick? It hadn't felt like a trick.

When the train finally stopped in Arad, Harry pushed all his thoughts and memories of the veil from his mind, and forced himself to focus on the current task. Ginny silently led him off the train, and they weaved their way through the rest of the Muggles toward the ticket booths.

Harry bought a pair of tickets on a train bound for Innsbruck. As they walked away, Ginny finally broke her self-imposed silence.

"Why that train?" she asked hoarsely. "Why not the one to Vienna in fifteen minutes? Now we'll have to spend an extra two hours here. I thought you said we were in danger?"

"We are," Harry replied in a low voice. "By now, Tarus will know we weren't on the first train to Budapest. While we were on the train, he closed down all connections to the Floo Network and sent every spare wizard to Britain to wait for us."

"Why can't we just Apparate back to Grimmauld Place?"

"Have you ever tried Apparating that far?" he asked her. "I think Grigore would find it pretty amusing if either of us ended up splinching ourselves."

"Well, we wouldn't have to do it in just one go," Ginny replied with a little annoyance.

"That's right, and you're free to give it a try," Harry said coolly. "While your hair might make it harder for us to be found in a crowd, it's not going to stop them from spotting you along the way," he explained, adding, "It's not as though I can really Apparate into whatever pub I want."

Ginny frowned and took a seat on a secluded bench. "Still, I would have thought you'd want to get away a little faster than this."

Harry sat down next to her, saying, "Every hour we wait will make it harder for Grigore to know where we are,"

"Then why don't we just stop off at some small town and wait a few days? If we just slipped off the train, no one could possibly know where we were."

Harry pulled the bottle of water from his bag and handed it to her. "We don't really have time to do that. We need to be back in Britain by tomorrow afternoon."

"Why then?"

"When we don't show up tonight, they're going to know just where to find us."

Ginny stared at him in bewilderment. "Hold on. You just said that the longer we wait, the harder it will be for Tarus to find us. How will he know where we are if we wait until tomorrow?"

Harry let out a long breath and leaned forward, letting his long hair hide his face. "He won't know where we are, but he'll know where we're going."

"Well then, let's go somewhere else," Ginny said as she twisted to try and look at Harry's face.

"Why do you think that Grigore was so friendly to you?" he asked. Ginny took a moment to think, but before she answered, Harry had already continued talking. "I don't understand why he did all of it, but I do know why it started. He wanted to get close to you because of your relationship to me ―or what your relationship to me _would be_ if found out. He knew I couldn't risk telling anyone else while you were so vulnerable. He also knew that you would be able to lure me out of hiding."

Ginny felt a chill run down her spine. Tarus had told her exactly what he was trying to do, though at the time she had completely misunderstood. He'd been talking about trapping Harry the very first time they'd spoken to each other. Ginny was the bait, and she was the reason why Harry couldn't ask for help. He'd used her, and she'd almost cost them both their lives.

"What does that have to do with him finding us?" she asked, trying to ignore her guilt.

"All he needed to do was to capture you. Everything else ―the job, the promotion, the special honors― it just wasn't necessary. Why go through that trouble for bait?" he asked, finally turning to look at Ginny. "You were part of some more elaborate plan, but you ruined it. Whatever happened between you two, it's changed him. In the shop, he was... different. He was rash and impatient. He's not going to work out some other plan. He doesn't have any other plans. He's desperate. He'll find someone else to act as bait, and he won't waste time like he did with you."

"But you know it's a trap, now," Ginny replied. "You know what he's doing. If we just stay hidden, we'll be fine."

Harry gave her a grim smile. "I knew he was using you to set a trap before you had even finished your N.E.W.T.s ―and yes," he said with a nod, confirming the surprised look on Ginny's face, "it started that long ago. I assume the possibility had always been in his mind. He sent a pair of wizards to the Burrow last Christmas. They found me there. One of them escaped, and I expect he'd been planning all this since then. Now that you've proven too difficult to handle, I suspect he'll find someone else."

"Hermione?" Ginny gasped.

"Hermione already knows about the Brotherhood. The Department of Mysteries has talked to them on occasion, though the rest of the Ministry doesn't realize it," Harry explained. "She doesn't know about Grigore, but she knows enough to be wary of him and the rest of the Brotherhood. She would make a risky choice. Grigore would want someone who wasn't quite so well informed."

Ginny's eyes widened in fear as she nearly shouted, "Oh, no! Ron! We have to tell him!"

"That's an excellent idea," Harry replied flatly. "There's a wizarding pub in this station. They keep an owl or two for messages. You could send one off with a message to Ron." Harry already knew it wouldn't work, but he watched Ginny and waited for her to reach the same conclusion.

After a moment of thought, the color drained from her face. "We can't," she said weakly. "He's got a match in Chudley tomorrow. They don't let him get owls the night before a match." She looked as though she were about to be sick. Slowly, she leaned over and buried her face in her hands.

"Tarus is going to be there, isn't he?" she asked. "That's why he knows where we're going to be. That's why we were able to slip out, isn't it? He knows we have to be there to stop him from―" Ginny's voice was cut off, and she quickly sat up. "Why aren't we trying to get there faster? We could stop it. We could―"

"There's nothing we can do," he told her firmly. "The best we could hope to do is hide in some cottage until tomorrow afternoon. If they find us before then, they'll attack us. If there is an attack, they'll cancel the match, and we might never find Ron again. He's safe right now, just like you were safe all these months. Grigore won't attack him because he needs Ron to draw us out. If we wait for the match, we can protect him and take him with us. Hermione too, if we're lucky."

Ginny didn't say anything for some time, and a half hour later the platform began to get too crowded with Muggles to talk about anything she might have been thinking about. The two of them sat in contemplative silence for the train to begin loading.

The more people on the platform, the more anxious Harry got to get off of it. Despite their attempts to fit in, it seemed as if the Muggles around them could _sense_ something odd about the young pair on the bench. If Grigore had searched that first train to Belgrade, he might already know that Harry was taking a less direct route. He might have already given up and began planning for Ron's match tomorrow, or he might have sent out wizards to every major train station in Romania. If any of them searched the platform they were on, Harry knew his disguise wouldn't fool them.

He felt a wave of relief as a uniformed Muggle stepped off a nearby car and shouted over the murmur of the crowd. Slowly, the people flowed toward the doors of the cars, and Harry and Ginny had joined them. Once inside the car, they followed the corridor until they found a small, empty compartment. They stepped inside and Harry tapped the door with his wand, making it blend perfectly into the wall on either side of it.

After another tense twenty minutes, they heard a whistle and the train lurched forward beneath them. After pulling out of the station, Harry slipped his glasses back on his face and watched the countryside race past them as they rolled toward the border.

He felt better knowing that within the hour they would be out of Romania and farther from Grigore Tarus and the Brotherhood. However, any comfort he might have had from that thought was drowned by the worry over Ginny's mood since their escape. Even her panicked argument earlier had been tinged with a melancholy despair that Harry found difficult to deal with. He had begun to fear that Ginny might never speak to him as a friend again, when her voice floated across the compartment.

"It wasn't your fault, you know," she said in a hollow tone.

"Just because I didn't mean to do it, doesn't make me any less responsible," Harry argued. He didn't feel like defending himself any more. He turned to face Ginny, and said, "I could have found a better way, but I didn't think about it. I thought he was far enough away. It was a stupid mistake, but it was _my_ mistake."

"I'm not so sure it was," Ginny replied. She looked up and gave Harry an apologetic look. He paused and wondered just what she had to apologize for.

"I watched it in the Spectrecorder," she explained. "I― I'm almost positive that Charlie _was_ safe. Your curse, it brought down a few chunks of stone, enough to stop him, but they weren't even close to him. After that― something happened. The ceiling caved in. They must not have been inspecting their charms. The charms should have held it in place. The stone over him couldn't take it, and just sort of fell apart. No one could have known it would happen."

"It was still my curse," Harry reminded her.

"I know, Harry. It was your curse, but Tarus put him there. Tarus said that Charlie had been tricked. He meant that Charlie had meant to betray him. Charlie was trying to help you. Tarus knew that. I don't think he's the kind of wizard who would forgive someone for that. If you had given Charlie the wand, Tarus would have killed him and taken it for himself." She turned to look out the window at the setting sun, adding, "You did the right thing, Harry. I don't know what Tarus wants with it. I wish Charlie wasn't dead, but I'm glad Tarus doesn't have the wand."

"Grigore never wanted the wand," Harry replied. "He only wanted it because the Death Eaters wanted it. What he wanted was a way to control the Death Eaters, if only for a little bit."

Ginny turned back toward Harry, and fixed him with an uncertain stare. "You know a lot about what he wants," she stated, rather than questioned. "You know quite a bit about the Brotherhood and how they do things. Why is that, Harry?"

He stared back at her for a moment, then, in a tired voice, he responded, "Why are you asking? You already know that answer."

"Yes, but I want to hear _you_ tell it to me," she replied with a slight edge to her voice. "After everything I've had explained and revealed to me in the last three weeks, I want _some_ of it to come directly from you. I deserve at least that. What reason could you have to keep things from me now?"

Harry leaned back in his seat and stared at his hands. She was right. It was time to tell her everything ―or almost everything. "I know about Grigore and the Brotherhood because I was one of them, once," he told her. "Grigore trained me, and for a while I considered him a friend. We shared ideas and opinions like any friends might. I helped him teach the others. I taught them how to fight. I taught them how to fight _me_." Ginny remained silent as Harry explained everything he couldn't tell her before, starting with the reason why he hadn't returned to her.

* * *

It had started almost immediately after Voldemort's fall. Harry had Apparated to the hill overlooking the Burrow and found Ginny waiting for him. He was exhausted and every bone in his body ached, but when he saw her the pain melted away into nothingness. The moon was shining off her hair and bathing her face in pale, clean light. He was so relieved to see her that he didn't even react when she raised her wand. She had already said "_Avada―_" before he even thought to be worried. 

While he was diving to the ground and fumbling for his wand, there was a much louder voice shouting, followed by a flash of blue light. When he'd looked up again, he found Grigore Tarus standing over Ginny's body. Of course, it wasn't truly Ginny, and Tarus was quick to explain that to Harry.

He had informed Harry that he was still in terrible danger and that he was endangering Ginny and the rest of his friends by being that close to them. After a brief conversation, Harry had agreed to Disapparate to Hogsmeade to discuss it further. They had talked more, and before the sun rose the next day, Harry was in Romania.

Tarus had always been secretive about the danger that Harry himself was in, and he'd always focused on the danger that he would put his friends in if he would return to them. In time, Harry began to believe it, and when they started fighting against the Death Eaters, he became even more convinced that Tarus was trying to help him. Meanwhile, Tarus worked even harder to hide the true nature of the Brotherhood from him.

Harry rose in skill faster than any of the other Brotherhood wizards. Only a month after he'd arrived in Romania he began helping Tarus instruct the other wizards in charms and tactics to use against the Death Eaters. Many of them, it seemed, resented his ascension, but many others readily accepted him and came to him for advice on a wide variety of things.

Slowly, Harry began to accept them as well, and he opened up to them, telling them about his thoughts and memories. He never forgot about Ron and Hermione, and convinced himself that they were safer for now with him far away from them. The Brotherhood became his new friends, and while he never felt quite as comfortable around them, they treated him as an equal, and that was a refreshing feeling for Harry.

When Ginny had gone to King's Cross the day before the start of her final year at Hogwarts, a group of Brotherhood wizards concocted an excuse to get him out of the Castle. While they followed a pair of Death Eaters through the back alleys of Marseilles, he and his partner had Apparated to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and watched Ginny board the train.

They had meant it to be a late birthday present for him, a chance to see just what he was fighting to protect. However, they had thought only of Harry, and not of Ginny. The moment he saw her he could see that something was wrong. She had looked tired and worn down, as if she hadn't slept in a long time. She was smiling and laughing with her friends, but there was an eerie emptiness to it.

It utterly failed at cheering him up, and when he returned to Romania, he was unable to hide the effect seeing her had on him. He avoided Tarus for days, worried about what he think. Soon, the fact that Harry was avoiding him was enough to make Tarus suspicious and he called Harry into his study to talk with him.

Harry had tried lying to him, but it hadn't worked. Somehow Tarus had already known what Harry had done.. Tarus had gotten very upset, but he didn't do anything so condescending as trying to scold or punish him. Instead, he tried to explain to Harry just what they were preparing for. A great war was coming, a war only the Brotherhood was prepared to fight.

That day was the first time he had shared his suspicions of another Dark Lord with Harry. Harry thought he took it fairly well, considering how much pain and suffering the last one had caused him. Tarus had intended it to inspire Harry, and remind him of the danger he posed to his old friends, and for the most part, it had worked.

Harry increased his efforts in training the other wizards. More and more of them were showing up every day, and the newest wizards had quite a bit less knowledge of dueling and hexes than the others. Harry took them and spent hours teaching them every day.

While Tarus and other members insisted that there were no ranks within the Brotherhood, Harry couldn't help but note certain patterns. Tarus spent a few hours every morning teaching advanced magic to Harry and a small number of other wizards. Some of them were quite young, and some of them were older. Later in the day, they would gather groups of the other wizards and train them in offensive and defensive magic, but only rarely reaching the power and complexity that Tarus taught them.

By the start of October, the groups of wizards who would wait to train with Harry had grown so large that other wizards were beginning to grumble about the possibility that Harry was trying to make himself into Tarus's rival.

Tarus responded by calling Harry into personal training sessions in the afternoon. Harry began feeling as if he were being isolated and set aside. He had never wanted to take Tarus's place, and he decided it would be best to simply accept the changes. He spent his mornings reading books, but found that his evenings were no longer relaxing.

Not discouraged by Harry's absence for the afternoon training, groups of wizards were now coming to him at night. They met in the dark hallways deep under the Castle, and he taught them by facing off against them. Harry soon learned that they were being taught dark magic. It was obvious that Harry was no longer being trained the same way the other wizards were. He pushed this aside in his mind, telling himself that Tarus didn't teach him dark magic because he knew Harry would refuse to learn it. Instead, he decided to help them learn how to use dark magic to counter the charms the Death Eaters or other wizards might use against them.

They did not advertise their meetings, and the longer it went on, the more it had felt like Dumbledore's Army all over again. And just like his fifth year at Hogwarts, it was only a matter of time before others found out what had been happening.

A nightly guard patrol had stumbled upon them late in October, and by the next day, the Brotherhood had fractured into a number of different groups. Some of them felt Harry had gone too far and should be removed from the Brotherhood. Others, most of whom had taken part in the extra practice sessions, reminded everyone that no one could ever leave the Brotherhood and that Harry had only been trying to help them.

Tarus forbade any more of the evening practices. He did not disagree with the results, but the restrictive, separative manner in which they were being done upset him. Harry also detected a small hint of fear at the thought of Harry commanding more loyalty than Tarus himself. Tarus sent Harry away, assigning him to follow and check on Henri D'Anneau.

He had been told to return on Halloween, and when he did, he found a completely different Brotherhood waiting for him. No one ever really told him what had happened, and that perhaps was one of the first indications of the magnitude of the changes. Wizards who had previously spent evenings with him doing nothing more than talking and laughing, refused to speak to him, relaying the same advice: speak with Tarus.

That night he went to speak with Tarus, and found him pacing in his study. Like the rest of the Brotherhood, he seemed guarded, as if he were uncertain just how to act around Harry. When Harry confronted him, he had reacted defensively, and began interrogating Harry about his actions over the past month. He knew about his side trip to see Ginny, and he knew about the evening training sessions.

After a few minutes, Tarus had taken Harry deeper into the Castle than he'd ever gone. At the end of all of the flights of stairs was a large round hall with a pair of doors at one end. Through those doors was another large room with a high ceiling and a sunken center. In the middle of the floor below had been the last thing Harry had expected to see there.

"The veil?" Ginny asked.

Harry nodded and continued. Tarus claimed he had brought him there to show him something of the future. Harry had felt immediately wary, but any of his concerns were outweighed by a much more troubling question. He paused as he tried to explain just what it had felt like. Ginny felt herself shiver as Harry related an experience very similar to her own. Like her, he had stepped onto the platform, though he had no help from Tarus. He began to explain the things he heard, but he sounded hesitant and unsure of himself.

Harry paused before continuing, and asked in a quiet voice, "When you looked into the veil, did you... _see_ anything?"

Ginny stared back at him, unsure of what he would think. "I did," she told him. "It was only for an instant, but I'll never forget his face."

"Whose face?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Tom's face," she answered as if it should have been obvious.

"You saw Voldemort? You're certain it was him? You― Was it cloudy or―"

"Yes, Harry, I'm certain," she replied sharply. "After all the times― I mean―" she stammered. She looked out the window, and said, "Yes, I'm certain, Harry. I saw him, too."

Harry looked troubled. "I never saw him that closely. I only saw... I only saw a dark wizard. And he spoke to me in Parseltongue."

Ginny turned back, looking much more interested. "Was that what that was?" she asked. "I couldn't make it out, but at the end, he asked me ―commanded me, really― to come to him. I think he wanted me to walk through the arch and kill myself. I might have if Tarus hadn't stopped it."

Harry appeared confused. "Tarus wouldn't have stopped me. He wanted me to go through the arch. He wanted me to die that night, the same night Voldemort had killed my parents. He told me that nature required it. He said I would be a danger to my friends and every wizard in the world if I didn't."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would he do it?" Ginny asked. "Why would he spend all that time gaining your trust if he just wanted to kill you? Why didn't he just use the Killing Curse in your sleep?"

"I think he's afraid of me," Harry suggested. "He's afraid that it might not work, or that it would, but that it wouldn't solve anything."

Ginny gave him a bewildered look, and Harry reached for his wand to help him explain. "When I first learned of Voldemort, I thought there were only two types of wizards: good wizards and dark wizards," he said as he used his wand to draw two glowing golden circles in the air.

"When I was older, Sirius told me that the world wasn't that simple. He said most wizards were somewhere in between." As he spoke, Harry drew an arc from one dot to the other. "The day I met Grigore, he told me that a few wizards, like Voldemort, were much darker than normal dark wizards, and a few wizards were much more good than normal good wizards."

"―Like you―" Ginny interjected.

Harry nodded. He took his wand and started extending the lines on either side of the arc he'd drawn. "He said that the difference between the very darkest wizard imaginable and the very best was much less than you might think. Both would be equally disruptive to nature," he said. "In fact, he believed that in the most extreme cases, the two would be indistinguishable." Harry finished extending the lines, closing the glowing circle between the two of them.

"Grigore believes that Voldemort and I were a sign that the wizarding world was becoming unstable. If it wasn't fixed, the imbalance would worsen, creating even more unnatural wizards, until a new sort of wizard appeared." Harry drew in a third circle where the two lines had met. "This wizard wouldn't be good or evil. He'd be a thing of destruction and decay: an enemy of nature itself. The purpose of the Brotherhood is to prevent that, by ensuring that the numbers of good and evil wizards were never far apart."

Ginny stared at the figure Harry had drawn: a glowing circle, connecting three smaller, equally spaced circles. It was the same as the talismans the Brotherhood wore around their necks. She felt the corners of her mouth pulling back into a scowl. Tarus had been telling her all the answers, but there was no way she could have known. He was slowly working on her, trying to convince her to join them. It might have even worked if she hadn't been so stupid as to chase Harry down a darkened alley.

"He probably hoped he would be able to control me," Harry said. "He saw himself in me. He must have believed that I would change as he had."

"No, I don't think so," Ginny replied. "Now that it's explained to me, I think he saw you as a flaw to be removed, not a problem to be corrected. He told me that you were something that Dumbledore should have fixed after Voldemort fell." She swallowed and looked Harry in the eye. "He was trying to balance the scales, and he knew he could never do it with you on them."

"It was more than that," Harry disagreed. "I think― Something happened before Halloween. I... I think he looked behind the veil and whatever he saw made him change his mind. That was when he turned on me, and that was when he started watching you. That's when he started setting the trap."

Ginny remembered Tarus's tale about trapping dragons, and realized that it had always been about Harry. "I think he always meant for you to die," she told him in an emotionless voice. "He just didn't know when to do it ―or how. If he saw something behind the veil, then it scared him into acting before he was ready. He came after me as a way to keep everything quiet. He knew what would happen if the rest of Europe knew that he was trying to kill the Great Harry Potter."

"It worked," Harry commented soberly.

For some time they just sat quietly, contemplating what they had said. Ginny noticed that Harry was worried about something but he was trying to hide it from her. She had a good idea of what it might be, and she was trying to decide if she really wanted answers to her questions. In the end, the silence became more unbearable than her worries, and she spoke up.

"Ron's in real danger isn't he?" she asked.

"Not as much as the two of us," Harry answered, "but quite a bit, yes."

"And what will happen if we refuse to walk into his trap?"

"He'll kill Ron," Harry replied coldly. His expression softened a bit when he saw the fear on Ginny's face. "He won't do it right away. He doesn't see Ron as a threat. He'll wait for us to show up. If we don't, he'll kill Ron before he has a chance to escape." He leaned forward and looked into Ginny's eyes.

"I won't let anything happen to Ron," he told her firmly.

"I know," she said, though she didn't know if it was a lie or not.

* * *

When the train came to a halt at Belgrade, Harry pulled the curtains across the windows and gestured for Ginny to remain quiet. Minutes later, they heard a number of people walking down the corridor. A few of them walked past the hidden doorway, and at least one person stopped, but no one made any attempt to enter. Not long after they stopped, the train whistle announced their departure, and the train lurched forward on its way to Vienna. 

Feeling quite a bit more relaxed, Ginny was able to get a few hours of sleep while the train climbed through the mountains on its way to Vienna. When she awoke, she found the first rays of dawn reflecting off the steep slope outside her window. Harry was awake and sitting across from her, leaning forward with his hands covering his face. He was mumbling something, though Ginny couldn't quite catch any of it. She held her breath, trying to hear his voice over the rumble of the tracks.

It seemed to be a chant of some sort. Though she couldn't recognize the words at first, he seemed to be repeating it, as if he were trying to make sense of some riddle. Over the rumbling of the train she caught the words "scar" and "emptiness". What could he be talking about? She slowly leaned forward, and caught a third word: _blood_.

A chill ran down her spine and she jerked upright. Harry noticed the sharp movement and immediately sat up as well, searching the tiny compartment for danger.

"What is it?" he asked after finding nothing threatening.

"You were whispering something," Ginny said.

"Was I?"

"Yes, you were," she assured him. "You said something about a scar and blood."

A look of recognition crossed Harry's face and he turned away from her. "It's nothing. It's... It's just an old dream I've been trying to figure out for a while," he explained.

Ginny frowned at him, not at all appreciating the dismissive response. She didn't believe that it was merely a coincidence that he had chosen to think about it while she was asleep. "Why don't you tell me about it? Maybe I can help."

"No," he replied immediately. "It's really nothing. I was just trying to distract myself."

"Distract yourself from what?"

"From that," Harry said, pointing out the window.

In the growing light, Ginny could see buildings stretching off toward the horizon. They weren't far from Vienna. "Is something wrong? I thought we came here because it would be safe."

"―Because it would be _safer_," Harry corrected. "There are very few places where we can be safe. The house on Grimmauld Place might be the only place left, but that doesn't really help us, does it?"

Ginny nodded in agreement and stared out the window as the train slithered toward the center of the old city. She felt better than she had for a while, and yet Harry's anxiety was beginning to infect her. He had always been the one who had known what was going on and how to escape. If he was nervous, it was a bad sign.

"What exactly are we going to do when the train stops?" she asked him, hoping for some encouraging answer.

"Nothing at all, I hope," he replied. He didn't turn to see the disappointment on Ginny's face, but he did explain himself. "When we reach the station, we'll let as many people off before us as we can. We can watch from here to see how safe it looks. I doubt Grigore will waste the time to continue looking for us, but he's been acting rather unpredictably lately."

"And if it isn't safe?"

"Then we stay on the train and hope that we can find some other place with a fireplace. If we run out of time, I'll Disapparate and protect Ron. You can stay on the train until I come back for you." Harry rubbed his eyes and looked out the window again. He looked very tired. Ginny wondered if he had slept at all. "It won't matter. We'll be fine," he added as if trying to convince himself as well.

"Then what are you worried about?"

"We've got about four hours until we can show up at the Quidditch match. It might be six or more hours until we can get to someplace with a fireplace that can take us to London. Grigore will know that, and he'll be searching all of Britain for us. We're stuck here until right before the match starts."

"Is that a problem?" she asked.

"It shouldn't be, and yet..." Harry's voice trailed off and he rubbed his forehead, letting his fingers absentminded trace the shape of his scar. It was something Ginny had noticed he would do when he concentrating on some problem. "Something feels wrong," he said. "It doesn't feel like a trap. It's different. I feel like I _need_ to be in Vienna, like I'm missing something and that's where I'll find it. It's not normal. I don't know what it means."

Ginny didn't press him for a better explanation, and he never offered one. Together they looked out the windows and watched as they entered Vienna and approached the train terminal. Ginny felt Harry's discomfort grow as the train squealed to a stop next to the platform. They watched and waited as passengers streamed off the train and toward the gateway to the rest of the terminal at the end of the platform.

There was no sign at all of Grigore Tarus or any of the Brotherhood wizards. No strange people were waiting or milling about and they heard no one come aboard the train searching for other passengers. When most of the passengers had walked off, Harry quickly removed the enchantment from the door and motioned for Ginny to leave the compartment.

Instead of exiting through the closest door, they continued down the corridor, picking an exit much closer to the terminal gateway, yet not the closest one. Harry scanned the thinning crowd of Muggles, then escorted Ginny off the train and onto the platform.

As they walked toward the larch archway, Harry began walking slowly and searching the faces of everyone around them. The slower he walked, the more nervous Ginny got. "What is it, Harry?" she asked.

"I don't―" he started to say before cutting himself off. He blinked his eyes a few times and shook his head. "Maybe I just need sleep. Still, I think I'd feel better if we got off this platform. We need to head to that exit. Not far from it is an old telephone box. It's the doorway to a large underground complex of shops. One of them is the wizarding pub with the fireplace we're looking for."

Harry strode vigorously ahead of Ginny, leading her toward the large arched exit. As they passed through it, they entered a long dim corridor and she was forced to jog in order to keep close enough that she wouldn't lose sight of him in the shadows.

Without any warning, he darted to the left, and Ginny tripped over the feet of a tall man in a grey business suit as she tried to follow him. When she found Harry again, he was standing in a dusty old telephone box in a dark corner and motioning for her to hurry up. She took a deep breath and jogged over to him, only to have him grab her wrist and jerk her through the wall.

It felt rather like the barrier at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. In an instant the dark, cramped box was replaced with an even darker cramped corridor with an arched doorway at the opposite end. Harry walked toward the door and it opened with a wailing creak. After a quick look, Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her through the doorway.

The hall they walked into was immense. It must have been ten times the size of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. It's huge domed ceiling towered far above the floor, well beyond the glow of the lamps which lit the haphazard net of walkways stretched across the floor.

There were quite a bit more people than she had expected. The perimeter of the hall was lined with shops of all sorts, and the floor ―which was covered with enough dust and dirt to make it feel more like a ground― was cluttered with small carts and covered stands selling such a variety of exotic ingredients that she could not tell if some of them were food or potion ingredients.

Ginny stood for a moment and simply stared in amazement at the small underground city. With the golden lamps bathing the shops and stands with light, it looked much like Diagon Alley on a summer evening. It was wonderful.

* * *

Only feet away, Harry was struck with a different feeling altogether. It was something he had tried denying for a long time, but there could be no mistake now. He could feel his scar throbbing lightly. It was far from the worst it had ever hurt, but it wasn't the amount of pain which worried him. The simple fact that he was feeling something from it was enough to terrify him. Hesitantly, he reached a hand to his forehead. When the tip of his finger grazed the surface of his scar, a splitting pain sliced through his skull, making him recoil in shock. 

Ginny was still marveling at the sight of the cavernous hall. Though the pain in his forehead was dying down, his concern was not. If his scar hurt, there must be a reason, and it must be nearby. Suddenly the one place he had hoped to use as a refuge had become the last place he wanted to be.

"Come on, Ginny," he said through gritted teeth. "We need to go."

Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her further into the enormous hall. Ginny didn't fight him, but she didn't share his sense of urgency. "Why?" she protested. "We have hours and this place is amazing. Where are we going?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly, "but we need to leave as quickly as we can."

Ginny came to an abrupt halt and waited for Harry to turn around and face her. "We need to leave?" she questioned. "Not twenty minutes ago you told me that we had to stay here until right before the match."

"I was wrong," he replied, tugging her forward.

Ginny tugged back and fixed Harry with a stubborn glare. "What is going on Harry? Why won't you tell me what is happening?"

"Because _I don't know,_" he barked at her. Ginny looked as if he'd slapped her. He felt his scar twinge through the cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. Instinctively, he reached for it, but pulled his hand back, remembering what it felt like the last time he touched it. "Listen to me, Ginny," he said in a softer voice. "Something about this place feels wrong. I know it. I can't explain how. I just do. We've made a horrible mistake. We need to get out of this place."

Ginny's expression switched to one of fear. "What are we supposed to do? You said the Brotherhood would be searching all of Britain for us. Where are we supposed to go?"

"I don't know," Harry answered. "Anywhere but here. We'd be safer spending the next few hours running from the Brotherhood in Britain than waiting here a minute longer than we need to."

Ginny paled at his dire tone. She stepped closer, her eyes focused only on him. "Alright, Harry, then we'll go."

With his heart pounding in his chest, he took Ginny's hand in his and began weaving his way through the swirling crowd of wizards in the hall. He walked as quickly as he could, as if he could run from the heat building in his scar. Finally, after winding their way across the hall, they stopped in front of a large door flanked by a pair of wide, granite columns.

"Wait here a moment," Harry called back over his shoulder. "Let me take a look inside first. If the Brotherhood is here, this is where they'd come to find us." Harry waited for someone to exit the pub and silently slipped inside. After a quick survey of the room, he could see no sign of the Brotherhood and the fireplace in the far corner looked to be in perfect working order. A moment later, he slipped back out.

"There is a large group of old wizards who are making their way to the door," he told Ginny. "When they open the door, slip past them and find a table along the back wall. I'll follow a little while later. Put up your hood and wait for my signal." Harry looked around the column, and through the small window in the door. The bunch of wizards were slowly ambling toward the door.

Behind him, Harry felt Ginny take a step forward, and his arm shot out to stop her. "Not yet," he whispered.

"Harry―"

"Not yet!" he hissed.

"Harry―"

"Keep quiet," he scolded her without taking his eyes off the small window. The group of wizards was almost to the door. A second later, the doorknob turned and the hinges let out a shrill squeal as the door slowly opened.

"Alright, go," he ordered. "Keep to the wall and try not to give anyone a reason to notice you."

The old wizards filed out of the door, but Ginny still hadn't made a move for the door. "Hurry up, Ginny!" he commanded. "There's no time!" He could feel his scar pulsing again, and it was making it difficult to think.

"Harry!" she called out. "I can't go in."

"Why not?" he asked loudly as he whipped around to glare at her. Ginny was standing with her hood down and her chin raised, trying to avoid the wand which was pressing into her throat. Standing behind her and looking over her shoulder was one of the many faces Harry had been hoping to avoid.

His blood went cold as the wizard stepped out from behind Ginny. "Let her go, Dragomir," he said in a strained voice. Slowly, his hand began inching for his wand.

"Relax, Harry," the wizard replied. "Keep your wand where it is. We both know that Grigore would kill me if I gave her so much as a nosebleed."

"Then why pretend that you might?"

Dragomir smiled. "I needed your attention, Harry, not a fight. Can you honestly tell me that if I were standing here in any other posture, you wouldn't have cursed me six times already? I saw what you did to the last wizard who got in your way."

Harry ignored the comment despite it's truth. "Where is Andros?" he asked.

"He's in the pub, sitting at the table nearest the fireplace," Dragomir answered calmly. "He's in local attire so he'd be harder to spot. Of course, he probably didn't even notice you. I ordered him to watch only the fireplace. He doesn't know where I am."

"Alright, what exactly did you want my attention for?"

"I only want to speak with you."

"After months of hunting me, now that you've got me cornered, you want to _talk_ with me?"

"I swear that is all," professed Dragomir.

Harry frowned and glared back. "That might sound more convincing if your wand wasn't pointed at her neck. Or perhaps we could step into the pub, I could jab my wand into Andros's neck and we could talk like civilized wizards?"

"What safety do you think that would give you?" the other wizard asked. "There isn't a single wizard ―or even two or three wizards― in the Brotherhood Tarus wouldn't trade for you. If he were here, we wouldn't be talking. You'd be dead or on your way back to Romania."

"You're saying Tarus doesn't know you're here?" Harry asked skeptically. "He didn't tell you to come here or hint that I might be here?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Harry. It wasn't an impossible mystery. There were only so many trains which left Romania in time to reach a fireplace which could take you to across Europe. We tried to think of the least likely course of action which might still result in you making it to the match. We've been waiting her for an hour or so."

"_We?_" scoffed Harry. "You're saying that Andros actually had some part in figuring that out? He's good with a wand, but he couldn't find his shadow if you put a lamp in each of his hands."

Dragomir laughed and lowered his wand a little. "Yes, of course not him. There is a third, but he thought you would be less likely to listen to what we were saying if he were here."

"Who is it?" Harry asked sternly.

Dragomir frowned and glanced toward Ginny. "The new lieutenant," he said in a low voice.

"Josef?" Harry said with distaste. "You're bloody daft if you think that there is a secret he knows that he hasn't shared with Grigore."

"Grigore doesn't know about this. That's one of the reasons we wanted to talk to you. He hasn't... been himself lately. He's been missing things, making little mistakes. When we didn't find you on the train to Budapest, he stopped looking. He gave up and sent everyone to England. Andros, me, and twenty-eight other wizards are supposed to show up at that Quidditch match outside Chudley. He didn't even consider anything else. He thought up a simplistic plan, and threw all his weight behind it. You know what he's like Harry. You know how this works. This plan, it's sloppy. He's being reckless. He isn't thinking it through. He's going to kill her brother. He'll kill him whether you show up or not. He hasn't had enough time to plan for anything else."

Harry felt his throat tightening, but he forced himself to speak. "And you and Josef wanted to ―what? Warn me? Help me?"

"Maybe both," Dragomir said. "Will you listen? Can I put my wand away?"

Harry nodded, and once Dragomir had dropped his arm, Harry reached for Ginny and pulled her away from him. With a wary look, he gestured for Dragomir to lead them into the pub.

* * *

Ginny tried to keep up with everything they had said, but it was almost too much to simply stand while her legs were still trembling. Whatever was going on, it had caught Harry unprepared. Still, it didn't feel so threatening as she had feared it was at first. She followed the other two wizards into the pub and joined a third who was sitting at a table very near the fireplace. 

She remembered hearing the name Dragomir before, the morning she and Harry had fled after she had first found him. She hadn't seen him that day, and now that she did, his appearance felt strange to her. He didn't look as evil as she had imagined him. In age, he looked to fall somewhere between Remus Lupin and her parents. He had an angular, noble face surrounded by a chin-length curtain of dark brown hair.

Had she known nothing else about him, she might have taken him for a perfectly respectable wizard. His mannerisms were direct and refined, leading Ginny to suspect that he was from a wealthy family. The only unnerving thing about him were his occasional glances at her. He seemed to have some curiosity about her, and the idea that he knew something about her that she didn't worried Ginny.

Once they had all made themselves comfortable at the table, Dragomir pushed two small pouches toward Harry and Ginny. "Floo Powder," he explained. "A show of faith. The fireplace is right there. When you want to leave, you can go. However, I would not recommend that until after the players are out and warming up on the pitch."

"Why not?" Harry challenged.

"Because Grigore will be watching the gate until then," the third wizard answered. He was obviously the one named Andros. He had short hair which hung close to his head in dark curls. He was younger than Dragomir, but still older than Harry. "Once Weasley is out in the open, he's not going to take his eyes off him. Grigore lost his other bait―" he said with a nod toward Ginny, "―so he's found something new. He's not even trying to be subtle about it. If you don't return to Romania with him, he'll kill Ron Weasley."

Ginny felt the heat building up in her face. They were sitting across from her, talking about killing Ron as if it were barely worthy of their notice.

"Ron's not going to die," Harry declared, "and I'm not going with Grigore. Of course, any idiot could have guessed that, but they would have had just as easy a time guessing Tarus's plan. You didn't disobey Grigore and risk your lives to tell me something I already knew, so what did you come here to talk to me about?"

Dragomir and Andros paused and looked at each other. "Do you believe you are what Tarus claims you are?"

"Of course I don't," Harry replied immediately.

"Neither do we," Dragomir stated.

"And yet you're still helping him," Harry growled.

"You must understand, Harry. There was a time when I believed him. I have spent much more time with him than you have. I joined the Brotherhood when I was just fourteen. In all that time, I cannot remember Grigore ever lying to me. When he first suggested it to me, I believed him because I could see the honesty in his eyes. He truly believes that you are the wizard we were meant to stop."

"Grigore is old," Harry replied bitterly. "He may not have lied to you, but he's lied to me, and he's lied to himself. He's afraid of dying without some proof that all the killing and manipulation he's done had some greater purpose."

"I think he's already seen that proof, and I think you have seen it, too," Dragomir said pointedly. "If Josef's guess is correct, Miss Weasley has seen it as well. But it's even more than that, Harry. Many of us have started to _feel_ it."

"It isn't real," Harry argued. "It was just a vision, a dream, some trick that Grigore has found to convince you that I am the thing the Brotherhood has spent centuries waiting for. If there is evil in that castle, then Grigore Tarus has put it there, not me."

"You may be right about Grigore, but if you think that this thing doesn't exist then I say it is _you_ who are lying to yourself. Grigore was right, it started the week you came to join us. In the few months you were in the castle, we began fighting amongst ourselves. However, you left us and it hasn't stopped. It's been getting worse. Tiberiu had barely met you. He was the night guard for the Veil Antechamber, but something happened to him. He became... different, and when he saw Ginny in Giza, he tried to kill her against Grigore's expressed orders."

"That's all very interesting," Harry said as he leaned forward, "but it doesn't help me, does it? I'm still being hunted because of something I'm not."

"That's not the point," Andros spoke up, surprising the other three. "Even if you're not this thing, it _exists_ and it is beginning to act."

"The Brotherhood was formed a millenia ago to try and prevent that from happening. The time has come. We need your help. Will you punish the world for Grigore's mistake?"

"Mistake?" Harry replied acidly. "He wants to _kill me_ and you're telling me I should help him?"

"No," Dragomir said in a low voice, "I'm telling you that you should help _us_."

Ginny stared at the two Brotherhood wizards. Dragomir's meaning was quite clear: he planned to betray Tarus. Harry looked to be deep in thought.

"How many of the others have you convinced?" he asked.

"None," Dragomir answered. "Only I, Andros and Josef have spoken about this."

"Josef is a part of this plan, too?"

"Of course. He was the first to suggest it, and he said that we could not do it without your help."

"I don't trust him," Harry said.

"And rightfully so," Dragomir agreed. "He admits his mistake. He wanted to meet you himself, but he was afraid of that very reaction and he knew we would not get another chance like this one."

"That's touching," Harry sighed. "What exactly do you hope to accomplish with only three wizards and a good luck wish from me?"

"We think we can convince more of them ―quite a few, perhaps," Grigore replied, ignoring Harry's sarcasm. "It simply wasn't worth trying unless you were willing to help us. Quite a few of us still respect you. They would be more likely to turn away from Grigore if they thought you would return."

"I'll never return," Harry announced.

"That's irrelevant," Dragomir replied. "We only need to make it _appear_ that you would. If we can convince enough of them, maybe we can actually force Grigore to see the truth."

"And if you fail, he will kill you all," Harry warned them.

"If we don't try, he might not realize his mistake until it is too late," Dragomir countered. "Either way, we all die. Our only hope is success, and so we must try. Even if we succeed, we will be weakened, and we will not be as prepared as we should be. Can we count on you to help us?"

Harry leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. Ginny, Dragomir and Andros sat in silence and waited for some response. After a minute of tense waiting, Harry leaned forward again and looked at Dragomir with exhausted eyes. "What precisely will you need me to do?"

Dragomir and Andros shared relieved smiles. "For now, we need you to simply stay alive," Dragomir answered. "That goes for you, too, Miss Weasley. Josef was very specific about that. Grigore feels you have some role to play in all this, and I think Josef is afraid that if anything were to happen to you, Grigore would retaliate against Harry."

"That's easy enough to say," Harry commented, "but there is still a little problem involving Ron. I'm not going to hide in some dark cottage in Norway waiting for you to gather all your little friends while Grigore kills all my friends."

"I said we wanted you to stay alive, not turn into a coward."

Harry flashed him an expectant look. "So... you're going to help me?"

"Help you? No, we can't help you. If Grigore thinks we're helping you, he'll kill us before he realizes just how much we deserved it," Dragomir explained. "I can assure you that we will do everything we can to see that you are not killed, and I will attempt to keep Ronald safe as well. Unfortunately, there is little else we can do for you. Use that Floo Powder if you wish. If you do not trust me, there are a number of stalls outside where it can be found."

"The match starts at one o' clock," Dragomir announced as he stood. Andros mirrored him. "That's two o' clock, here, and the players come out fifteen minutes before then. At that time, Grigore will take his seat in the north tower and the rest of the Brotherhood will begin patrolling the pitch. Do not leave here before then. All of the fireplaces you can get to from here will be watched. However, at one o' clock the Tutshill Tornados are signing brooms in Witherwind's Inn outside Edinburgh. With the simplest of disguises you should be able to show up without anyone noticing. The nearest Disapparation point is just out the front door."

Harry nodded and waved silently. The two Brotherhood wizards bowed gently then turned and stepped toward the fireplace. A minute and two plumes of fire later, Harry and Ginny were sitting alone at the table. There were many questions floating about her head, but by the look in Harry's eyes, she guessed that he had quite a few more. Instead of pressing one of the more confusing questions, she decided to ask something a little easier to answer.

"Why don't you trust Josef?" she asked him. "I think he's one of the more dependable wizards in the Brotherhood."

Harry's head jerked up. "You've met him?"

"Yes, a few times," Ginny told him. "The first was at Giza, but we spoke for some time a week ago. He was the wizard who delivered the request to name me the Liaison to Romania."

"―A request designed to trap you and keep the Brotherhood's war a secret," Harry said in a restrained voice.

"Well, it was better than being interrogated by Reynard."

"Yes, in the same way that being locked in a room with a werewolf is better than being locked in a room with a werewolf and a rabid hedgehog."

"If you're not going to tell me then just say so," Ginny said huffily.

Harry turned away from her to stare into the fire. "The Brotherhood always operates in pairs. It makes it harder for them to be attacked. Two wizards working together cancel out each other's weakness, like Dragomir and Andros. Dragomir has to practice curses and hexes for hours, but Andros picks them up in minutes. Andros is horrible at solving problems and couldn't lie to brick wall, but Dragomir is as clever and any other wizard in the Brotherhood. It's also supposed to make it harder for either of them to betray the rest of the Brotherhood. If one of them disobeys the Brotherhood, the other almost always knows. Usually, the other wizard will cover for their partner, but if they think it's gone too far..."

Suddenly it made sense. "Josef was your partner, wasn't he?" she asked.

"Yes," Harry answered. "It was his even his idea that I go to see you at King's Cross," he added bitterly. "He helped me set up the evening training sessions. He was the one who told the other wizards about them. He was the one who told the patrols where to find us. When I escaped, Grigore named Josef, the one wizard who knew me better than anyone else, as his lieutenant."

"Maybe he's trying to find a way to apologize," Ginny suggested.

"Perhaps," Harry responded. "I think it's more likely he is simply trying to get rid of the last person between him and control of the Brotherhood."

"So are we going to help him?"

"I don't see any other choice," said Harry. "It's hard enough fighting Grigore and the Brotherhood while trying to avoid the Ministry. I can't fight him and Dragomir as well."

"So what are we supposed to do now?"

Harry opened the pouch in front of him and poked at the powder inside suspiciously. "The only thing we can do," he said with a shrug. "We wait."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I told you the next chapter would be coming soon, and here it is. You can also feel special because I posted this only minutes after the posting. Normally you have to wait a day or two before the chapters hit understand that this chapter moves quite a bit slower than the last chapter, but this should be one of the last big breaks until we reach the end of the story. It's really not far now. I'm going to guess that the last chapter will be Chapter 21 or 22. Of course, there are two more stories. It's a trilogy, you see. So that is why some questions just aren't going to be answered in this story (such as: "What did Harry see in the arch?") You'll have to wait for the sequel.

I will also admit that this chapter changed a bit from it's original vision. I had a bit of a revelation in the middle of writing it, so there are now a couple of interesting tidbits of information hiding in here.

Please note that this chapter might be a bit rough. I'm shopping for a temporary beta, so I was forced to reread this many times. Despite that, I already have a good chunk of the next chapter done. So, feel free to review or email me. It shouldn't be too long before Chapter 17 "The Chudley Catastrophe" shows up.


	17. The Chudley Incident

**CHAPTER 17**

**The Chudley Incident**

* * *

For hours they wandered around the pub and area just outside the door, waiting for the clock above the fireplace to tell them it would be safe for them to leave. When they had only twenty more minutes to wait, they gave up all attempts to try and occupy their minds and stood next to the fireplace looking very uncomfortable. As the time neared, they took a moment to cast some simple transfigurations, giving Ginny black hair again and turning Harry's a sandy blond color. 

Ginny could feel her heart pounding as the long hand on the clock face clicked into alignment with the ornately carved nine. Ginny stepped forward but Harry quickly grabbed her shoulder to hold her back.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Ginny nearly shouted. "Ron's in danger!"

"We need to go to Grimmauld Place first," Harry told her.

"We— What?" she sputtered. "Why did we stand around for the last twenty minutes? We could have been waiting there instead."

"No, we couldn't, remember? We need the distraction that crowd in Witherwind's Inn is giving us."

Ginny gave a frustrated huff and twisted her shoulder free. "Well, we could have saved a minute if you'd have told me this beforehand."

"It would have only made you even more anxious."

"Well, forgive me if I don't thank you just now," Ginny growled, knowing he was right. "Why exactly do we need to go back there? Is there a plant you need watered or perhaps you wanted to wear your favorite boots?"

Harry frowned and stepped up to the fireplace. "Think about it, Ginny. We're about to walk into a fight with thirty trained wizards. If there are any Aurors there, they're going to assume that _we_ are the evil ones. If we're really lucky, we'll have some help from Ron and Hermione. Otherwise, we're on our own. Myself, I'd prefer to face that behind a new Shield Cloak or two."

"Fine," Ginny reluctantly agreed.

"I'll go first," Harry said as he took the first pouch and tossed it into the fire. He ignored the looks from the patrons around him and stepped into the fireplace, shouting, "Witherwind's Inn!"

* * *

There was a long, dizzying whirlwind of grates and dimly lit archways. Finally, a large square opening froze in place in front of Harry. With a rough jolt, he was ejected from the fireplace and sent sprawling across a wooden floor and into the legs of a small crowd of robed wizards. 

"What the devil was that about?" one wizard shouted after he lost his balance and dropped to the floor near Harry. A few seconds later, Ginny tumbled out of the fireplace, slamming into Harry with an abbreviated shriek. The second impact was enough to bring down a pair of young witches who scowled at Ginny and climbed back to their feet where they turned their noses up at her with the greatest effect.

Harry got Ginny's attention. "We've got to go," he hissed. "We're drawing too much attention."

A tall wizard in crimson robes walked over toward them. "What's the meaning of this?" he asked in a higher pitched voice than his height suggested. "Are you two daft or mental? The fliers specifically said _not_ to use the Floo system."

"Sorry about that," Harry apologized as he helped Ginny stand from he was laying on the floor. "We're not really here for the Tornados."

"Oh, you're not, are you?" the shopkeeper asked dubiously. "Then why did you know why everyone else is here?"

Harry rolled over and crawled onto his feet. "We knew they'd be here, we just didn't—"

"—Just didn't think that the rules applied to you?" the wizard shouted shrilly. "—Didn't think that anyone would notice you sneaking ahead in the queue?"

Harry ignored the man, and pointed Ginny toward the front door. It was only twenty feet away, but crowded with wizards holding an assortment of brooms. The moment they started moving toward it, the wizard behind them shouted over the noise of the room.

"Robert!" echoed his voice. "Two queue jumpers!"

Suddenly a very large wizard stepped in front of Ginny, blocking their path. He ungracefully shoved them both back toward the fireplace. As he stumbled backward, Harry's eyes scanned the room. In one of the far corners he saw a wizard looking toward him. It was a face he recognized, though he didn't have a name for it. He had been one of the younger wizards in the Brotherhood. He'd also hated Harry. Right now he was struggling to make his way through the crowd to get to him and Ginny.

"We're not here for the Tornados!" Harry insisted. "We just want to leave."

"And that's exactly what you'll do," the shopkeeper said as he pulled his wand and grabbed the collar of Harry's robes. Together with the rather brutish looking Robert, the two wizards started pushing Harry and Ginny toward a smaller door on the opposite side of the room. It must have been the back door.

"No, please!" Ginny pleaded. "The other door!"

"And expose all my guests to that? You must be drunk."

They were pushed closer and closer to the back door. Suddenly, it opened and a cloaked wizard stared at the four of them. Even the shopkeeper and his guard were caught by surprise. In the brief moment that they stopped Harry's hand shot into his pocket and pulled out his wand. Ginny had just enough time to close her eyes before a loud _crack_ and flash of light burst from Harry's wand.

Ginny felt the hands on her shoulders go limp for an instant, and she ducked beneath them and slipped between their captors. Harry was right behind her. Harry was casting some spell and it sounded as if every witch in the room were screaming. There was a loud rumbling of chairs and tables being tossed about. When she reached to door she yanked it open and waited for Harry.

He was only a few feet behind her, swirling his wand about his head. All around him, the room seemed to be caught in a massive whirlwind. A number of wizards were leaping out the door in front of them and when Harry was nearly out, Ginny slipped out with them.

The day was bright and clear. A perfect day for Quidditch. Ginny, however, could think of only one thing right now: escaping. Once Harry was out onto the street he turned his wand to the door. He fired a quick charm and a second later the doors shuddered as if struck by a gigantic hammer.

"Go!" he shouted. "You know where. I'll meet you there!"

Instead, Ginny pulled her wand and aimed it at the door. If today was going to be a battle, then it best start right now. Harry frowned at her, but said nothing more. She knew what he was doing. He was going to make sure that the Brotherhood didn't harm anyone in their attempt to stop Harry and Ginny.

The door shuddered again, and then with a third rumble, the great wooden doors shattered into large chunks. Only a single wizard stepped out onto the street and the moment he raised his wand toward Harry and Ginny, a great shout erupted from the nearby crowd.

"It's him!" they shouted, pointing at the wizard in the doorway. "He's the one who attacked them!" In a flash, twenty wizards were leaping toward the Brotherhood wizard. As they wrenched the wand from his hand, Harry nodded toward Ginny and shouted a quick message to their pursuer:

"Tell Grigore we are coming!"

Then they Disapparated.

* * *

When Ginny Apparated into the alley across from Number Twelve Grimmauld place, she found Harry already halfway across the street. It was a little comforting that he was finally showing some signs that he shared the same feelings of urgency she'd felt for the last hour. 

When she reached the door he was already holding it open. After letting her in, he followed her to the kitchen where she was forced to stand lamely, waiting for him to show her just where he kept the robes they'd returned for.

Harry strode into the room a moment later and moved directly toward the same small, locked cabinet she'd seen him use before. After tapping the handle with his wand, he opened it and tossed a pair of darkly colored rolls of cloth toward her. He grabbed another pair for himself and dropped them to the floor.

"Go put those on quickly," he ordered. "There are a few things we need to talk about."

With a deep breath, Ginny dropped the larger cloak on the table and unrolled the set of robes. "There's no time, Harry," she said quickly, hoping that the jumble of sounds were clear enough to be understandable while hiding her nervousness. "Tell me now. I'll change here. It's not like it's the first time, is it?"

"No, I guess not," Harry agreed in a hoarse voice while Ginny slipped her robes down off her shoulders. She was wearing a knee-length skirt underneath it, along with a long-sleeved white blouse that she was already unbuttoning. As she dropped the shirt to the floor, she could tell that Harry was trying to say something, but his mouth just hung open loosely.

"Harry!" she called out. "You said you needed to talk about something."

"Er— Yes, I— Er..."

Ginny pushed her skirt down to the floor. When she stood up, she found Harry staring at her, completely dumbstruck. "Wake up, Harry! We don't have time for this!"

"Right," he said as he turned to stare at the floor. "It just that— Well, it's a little different than... " His voice trailed off. He shook his head and turned his back to her in order to reach into the cabinet again.

Ginny was over at the other cabinet where she kept her extra clothes. She quickly picked a small, tight-fitting shirt and slipped it over her head. It was still quite warm out and if she was going to fight in robes and a heavy cloak, she wanted to wear the lightest and most comfortable clothes she could find underneath them. She began tossing clothes out onto the floor haphazardly, looking for something easier to move in than a pair of jeans. To her left, Harry finally found his voice and began talking very quickly.

"We shouldn't show up at the same time. We can be certain that at least two Brotherhood wizards will be watching and they'll be looking for any pair of witch and wizard our age and height. I'll let you go first. I'll give you a three minute head start. After you Apparate, just keep moving toward the gate. The matches at Chudley are so unpopular they don't even check for tickets. Your disguise should work just fine the way it is. When you're finished dressing—"

"—I am finished—" Ginny announced.

Harry turned and found Ginny slipping on a pair of soccer shorts. His breath caught for a moment, but he recovered quickly. "Alright, then. Take these," he said, handing her what looked to be a pair of eyeglasses.

Ginny stared at them with distaste. "Do you really think these are necessary?" she asked.

"They're Farscopes. They're like binoculars, but they look like eyeglasses."

"They look like bino-whats?"

"Binoc—" Harry started, then cut himself off. "They let you see stuff that's far away. You'll need them."

"For what?"

"Your job is to find Hermione," Harry announced as he changed into the new Shield Robes. "She'll be there. She shows up at all of Ron's matches. If we rescue Ron, she'll be in just as much danger, and if you can find her before anything else happens, she'll be one less wizard we have to fight to get to Ron."

Ginny took the glasses and slipped them into her robes. She slipped the cloak over her shoulders and tied it around her neck. She frowned at it. It felt bulky even when she was just standing still.

"Alright, so I'm supposed to go looking for Hermione. What are you going to be doing?"

Harry began rummaging through the cabinet again. "I'm going to try and figure out the best way to get Ron out of there without having him attack me." He turned around and tossed a small egg-shaped object at Ginny. "You know what that is?" he asked.

Ginny goggled at the small orb in her hands. "_Yes,_" she growled with narrowed eyes. "I helped make it. It's an Eggsplosion. George said they couldn't get it to work right."

"They work just fine," Harry reassured her, "—at least the other one did. There were only two of them. I sort of stole the only two they ever made." Harry gave an apologetic shrug.

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"I guess it's up to you," he replied. "Just don't use it until you find Hermione and get her down from the stands. Once you're on the ground and safe, toss that at something as far away as you can. Do you think you could get it into one of the towers?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "I _was_ a Chaser, Harry. What do you expect it to do? The worst it might do is make someone ill for a bit. I mean, the smoke should smell really vile, but that's all there is. There isn't even enough of it to hide in."

"All I need is something that will get everyone's attention without actually killing anyone," he explained. "The moment you use that, a lot of things are going to start happening."

"Like what? The pitch has anti-curse wards placed on it."

"Those wards aren't unbreakable," Harry said pointedly. "Once Grigore sees that thing going off, you'll see just how long it takes to pull down wards. And if he doesn't, I will."

"What happens then?" Ginny asked.

"I'm going to get to Ron as quickly as I can. I won't tell you not to help, but it's much more important that you and Hermione escape. This isn't the first time I've faced the Brotherhood. Ron and I will be fine. You need to make sure you and Hermione get out alive. Do whatever it takes. I probably won't be able to break the Anti-Disapparation wards, so you'll have to get away from the pitch before you Disapparate. We'll all meet back here."

"Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Probably," Harry said flatly, "but we're out of time. You need to have Hermione on the ground before the match starts, and we're running late. Do you have a watch or something?"

"Er... not really," she replied while searching her pockets.

Harry reached into the cabinet and pulled out a small watch. He held it up to his own to check the time, then tossed it to Ginny. "With the time it'll take you to get to the pitch and the two minutes it takes to announce the teams, it looks like you've got about seven minutes to find Hermione, convince her that Ron is in danger and that she shouldn't do anything about it."

* * *

Ginny Apparated just outside the gate to the Chudley Cannons' home pitch. Unlike most of the other matches here, there was actually a queue of wizards waiting to get into the pitch. The queue seemed to come to an end right under the eaves of a large stand of trees, where a large iron gate stood. At first Ginny was thankful, as the crowd provided her with plenty of cover to get into the pitch. 

Standing some distance away, in the shadow of one of the few large trees on the near side of the gate, she saw a pair of wizards watching the stream of spectators. They were probably Brotherhood wizards. Their eyes had already passed over her twice, and they had not so much as twitched an eyebrow. She paused for a moment, letting a pack of tall wizards in appallingly orange robes get between her and the pair of wizards. The extra cover couldn't hurt.

She slowly walked toward the main gate. It hadn't occurred to her that the queue was moving slower than it should be until it was nearly too late. Flanking the gate were two pairs of Aurors. Hung from either gate post was a pair of large signs. In bold print across the top were the words _Have You Seen This Witch?_, and along the bottom it read: _Unpredictable and possibly dangerous. Report sightings to an Auror. Do not approach_. Between the rather ominous lines of text was a large photo of Ginny smiling weakly. It was from the photos the _Daily Prophet_ had taken of the British delegates to the World Cup vote a few weeks earlier.

Why were they looking for her? Why did it say she was _unpredictable and possibly dangerous_? She hadn't attacked anyone. Well, she hadn't attacked anyone without good reason. She ruffled her hair, adjusted the glasses Harry gave her and kept her head forward and slightly down. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that the Aurors were bored. Perhaps after a half hour or more of searching, they wouldn't be very vigilant.

"Hey there!" a nearby wizard called out. "Isn't that Arthur Weasley's daughter?"

Ginny's reflexes betrayed her and her head snapped up to look at the person who had called out. A quick glance, however, revealed that they were not looking at her, but the poster on the gate.

"What's she done?" the wizard called out to one of the Aurors.

"If you haven't seen her, then it's nothing you need to concern yourself with," one of the Aurors shot back.

"I suppose not," the wizard huffed. "If it was serious they wouldn't have sent you lot. Four Aurors to find one girl? That's one step up from tending Flobberworms."

"Shut up and keep moving," the Auror barked in response. The comment, however, still had some effect. Ginny watched as the Aurors shared annoyed looks at each other. As she passed by, she heard one of them mumbling to the other: "If this were a Tornados match it would be bloody simple, but this is impossible. Spot a red haired girl in this lot? We'd have a better shot of finding a quill in an owlery."

Ginny tried to look natural as she looked around her. She turned back quickly and stifled a laugh. She'd been too preoccupied to notice. It was the last match of the season for Chudley, and since the next year would be a World Cup year, there would be no more matches for a little over a year. This was a fact that few other people had forgotten, and it seemed that many of their fans had decided that they best make up for the upcoming drought by wearing the most outlandish outfits possible. In the few seconds she'd turned around, she'd spotted at least twenty or thirty people who had unnaturally bright orange hair. One wizard had even enchanted his hair to blink from blonde to pumpkin orange.

The Aurors were right. She probably could have sneaked past them even if she hadn't tried to disguise herself. Whoever had assigned them that job hadn't really thought about it all that much. As she passed through the gate, her mind caught on that thought.

_Why were they here looking for her?_

She'd only been gone for an extra day. Even if Harrington got paranoid and started searching for her, he wouldn't put up a poster saying she was _possibly dangerous_. He'd also have no reason to think that she'd be at the match, or that she wouldn't simply come forward if someone called for her. There was only one person who could have made the Ministry think that.

Grigore Tarus.

Ginny felt her jaw clench and her pace quicken. How could she have been so foolish as to not see what he'd been doing? He'd been manipulating her since the first time she'd heard his name. He had forced her to talk with D'Anneau. He'd tricked her into helping France host the World Cup match next year. He'd even used her to request the training of new wizards who were almost certainly meant to help him hunt down Harry. Now that she knew what he was doing, he'd turned on her just as he'd turned on Harry. She wondered if she still had a job.

She tried to avoid being noticed by everyone she walked past on her way to the pitch. Chudley hadn't had a popular team for over eighty years, but their pitch had been constructed over a hundred years ago. All of the towers were made from the same grey stone. Each tower had a wide staircase winding around its exterior walls, giving the wizards a surprisingly picturesque view of the area while they climbed to their seats.

Sadly, this was the most impressive thing the Chudley fans had to brag about. The Cannons had been rubbish for the last few years, and while Ron was more talented than a couple of the other players, his addition had not really turned their fortunes around.

As Ginny walked into the shadow of the nearest tower, she touched a small metal knob on the frame of her glasses, and her vision blurred for a moment. The Farscopes were curious things. They seemed to be somewhat like Omnioculars, but more discreet and much harder to control. If she focused on one thing for more than a few seconds, the glasses would begin magnifying it, making it easier to see. If she moved slowly, they would keep their current magnification. However, if she looked about quickly —as she had to when a pair of small children bounced off her— then the glasses unfocused wildly, leaving Ginny feeling as though she would be sick.

She tried not to think about them too much. She didn't have much time. She carefully looked down at the watch on her wrist. Harry had been right. She had just under eight minutes. That would mean that he should be Apparating to the entrance in less than a minute. It would take him another two to reach the pitch. Ginny closed her eyes. She didn't have time to worry. She needed to find Hermione.

The first place she felt she needed to look was the large tower on the north side of the pitch. That was where Dragomir had said Tarus would be sitting and watching Ron. If Hermione was there, she would need to do some more thinking. A few seconds later, she carefully looked through the rows of wizards in the tower. Tarus was sitting in the very front row, and staring down at the wizards walking toward the other towers. It unnerved Ginny for a moment, but she reassured herself that he could not possibly see her, if she needed the Farscopes to see him.

After a few more seconds, she felt certain that Hermione was not in that tower. For the most part, all the wizards sitting with Tarus seemed to be rich, important, or being paid to do whatever some rich, important person told them to do. Just as she was about to look somewhere else, a familiar face caught her eye.

Josef was walking along one of the rows. Ginny stopped and focused in on him. He looked just as serious as Tarus, but walked with a calm confidence that was unsettling even from hundreds of feet away. He sat down next to Tarus, leaned close to him, and began talking. Her heart began beating just a little faster. What was Josef telling him? Was he reporting how gullible she and Harry had been when they accepted help from Dragomir? Or perhaps he was betraying Dragomir just like he'd betrayed Harry.

The sound of loud cheering broke her from her thoughts. She pulled down the glasses and watched as a group of wizards in brooms began circling over the pitch. The players were back up on their brooms after their last meeting as a team. Ron was already zipping back and forth in front of the goal hoops, practicing various acrobatics that Ginny hoped he'd have plenty more seasons to perfect.

She had to find Hermione.

Ginny spurred herself forward. She had less than seven minutes now, and only five until the referees took to the pitch. Once that happened, it would be a lot harder to get up into the towers.

There were six towers arrayed around the pitch. The two tallest towers, the north tower and the south tower, seemed to be reserved for special guests. The one Tarus occupied was directly behind Ron. A quick check of the south tower showed no sign of Hermione.

Ginny began checking the two towers on the opposite side of the pitch —and farthest from her— hoping she would not find Hermione there. Two thorough checks, and one nauseating interruption later, she was certain that Hermione wasn't there. That left the two towers closest to her. It would be impossible to check the tower she was standing under, but she decided that if Hermione wasn't in the other tower, it would be the only option.

She stepped out closer to the pitch and into the sunshine, trying to get a good view of the other tower. As the Farscopes focused in, Ginny began looking for a patch of black and brown in the sea of orange. Her heart gave a little leap as her eyes locked on the image of a witch with wavy hair tied back over her shoulders. She'd found Hermione.

Trying not to run, Ginny quickly weaved through the crowd. As she neared the tower, her eyes caught something rather disturbing. Smoke was rising from near the main gate. A quick check with the Farscopes revealed that the large tree the Brotherhood wizards had been hiding under was being consumed by pale green flames and filling the sky with dark smoke. A number of Aurors had gathered around it. For a moment, she was afraid that something had happened to Harry, but there wasn't nearly enough commotion for that. Instead, a pair of Aurors were ushering a huge group of late-comers through the gate. They hadn't even tried looking at any of them. The Minister could have walked past them without noticing. Ginny smiled and turned off the Farscopes. She'd found Hermione, and Harry was headed for the pitch. So far, everything was going as planned.

The climb up the tower took less time than she'd expected. Most of the spectators had made the trek quite some time ago, and by the look on Hermione's face, she had spent most of the time between then and now listening to their songs and cheers for a team that had won two matches in the last year.

There were no more open seats near Hermione, so Ginny was forced to stand at the side of the large platform. She walked forward a bit, making it easier for Hermione to see her while putting a large wooden beam between her and Tarus's seat in the north tower.

Now she just had to find some way of getting Hermione's attention. Another look at her watch told her that she had only two minutes until the the teams would return to the ground to be announced. She needed Hermione to see her, but she didn't want to risk being obvious about it. If she just walked over to her, it would be a dead giveaway to any Brotherhood wizards who might be watching. Instead she tried something more discreet.

"Psst!"

Hermione didn't even turn to look at her. Ginny tried to be a bit louder, and even waved her arms. While she didn't get Hermione's attention, she did get _someone_ to notice her. A wizard about her age stood up and walked toward her.

"Why, hello there," he greeted her with an oily voice. Ginny stared back at him with distaste. "You looking for someplace to sit?" the wizard asked. He looked to be a few years older than her with bright orange hair and a toothy grin. "You're dressed... er... a lot. Why don't you ditch that cloak and I'll let you watch from my lap."

Ginny almost spat an insult back at him, but stopped herself at the last moment. "Yeah," she forced herself to reply, "Yes, I think that would be nice. I _am_ a bit hot in this. There is just one problem."

The orange-haired wizard straighted up and flashed another smile. "Well then, let's hear it. I'm sure we can find a way to fix it."

"Oh, would you?" Ginny replied in her most helpless-sounding voice. "You're the best. See, I was supposed to sit by my friend there," she said pointing at Hermione. "But there's no room now, and don't want to walk through all these nice people to tell her that I want to sit with you. Could you tell her?"

The wizard ran his hands down his robes, straightening them out and puffing out his chest. "Just that, then?" he said in a deeper voice. "I'd be happy to help you out. What did you say her name was?"

She returned a genuine smile. "Her name is Ginevra." With a little luck, Hermione would understand the hint.

Ginny watched as the wizard shuffled along the benches to where Hermione was sitting and watching Ron tighten the guards on his arms. The wizard who'd been chatting her up tapped her on the shoulder and began talking. Almost immediately, Hermione's eyes opened wide and jerked over to stare directly at Ginny. Before the wizard was even finished talking, Hermione was pushing past him and headed directly toward Ginny.

"No, it's really alright," the wizard said. It sounded like he was almost pleading. "She already said she wanted to. You don't have to—"

"Piss off!" Hermione snapped.

The wizard stopped as abruptly as if she had slapped him. "Hold on," he said in a higher voice, "there's no reason to be like that."

Hermione ignored him and took a moment to stare at Ginny's face, no doubt trying to confirm that it truly was her. When she was satisfied, she took Ginny's arm and began pushing her toward the stairs leading back down to the pitch.

"Hey! Come back!" the wizard called out. He ran after them, catching Ginny's shoulder just as they reached the first step. "She said she wanted to sit with me."

In a flash, Hermione's wand was out and pointed at the wizard's chest. "I don't care what she said," Hermione replied with narrowed eyes. "I said, _piss off_."

The wizard scowled at the wand. "What do you think you're going to do with that?" he asked, practically mocking her. "Didn't you know? They have wards to stop the use of charms and hexes."

Hermione pushed him away. "Why don't you go back to your howling and barking before I teach you just how much I know about the wards we put up around this place." The wizard paled slightly and slowly backed away from them, shaking his head and mumbling to himself.

"Bloody moron," Hermione said under her breath. She nudged Ginny forward. Together they descended the stairs. Once they had walked halfway around the tower, Hermione stopped abruptly.

"I have to get you out of here," she announced.

Ginny was caught off guard momentarily. "What? Why?"

"Why?" Hermione replied incredulously. "How did you get here? How could you miss the posters? They're all over. The Aurors are all over. They're looking for you, Ginny. They say you're dangerous, but no one is saying just what you did."

"It's a lie," Ginny told her. "It's just a story someone told the Minister to have the Aurors do all the boring work."

"Ginny, the Aurors aren't here on the Minister's orders. Reynard ordered them here. He found some old rule somewhere that allowed him to take recruit Aurors to help Unspeakables if the situation was dangerous," she explained. "Scrimgeour doesn't even know they're here."

Hermione looked into Ginny's eyes. "Ginny," she began, sounding completely serious, "I need you to be completely honest with me. Your safety depends upon it." Ginny nodded. "There are Brotherhood wizards here, right now. Maybe as many as twelve of them. Reynard is convinced that you've joined them, and that you're here to recruit more members, probably me and Ron. Did you join them? Have you agreed to do anything for them?"

Ginny stared at Hermione in shock. "No! Well— I've done things which helped them, but it wasn't _for_ them. I'm not one of them. They've been chasing me ever since I went to Romania to speak with Tarus."

"I really wish you hadn't gone there," Hermione commented. "Grigore Tarus is not a wizard you should be trusting. He's..." Hermione's voice trailed off and she looked around to see if anyone was listening. When she was satisfied she turned back to Ginny and whispered, "He's their leader. He's the head of the Brotherhood."

"I know," Ginny responded, surprising Hermione. From the pitch, an echoing voice was announcing the teams. She was running out of time. "Tarus is sitting in the north tower, and there are more like thirty Brotherhood wizards here, not twelve, and they—"

"—Thirty?" Hermione interjected. "How could you know that?"

Ginny began urging her down the stairs. "I don't have time to explain it to you right now, Hermione. Perhaps you should take the fact that I _do_ know that as a signal that you should just trust me right now."

Hermione followed closely behind Ginny. "They sent _thirty_ of them after you?" she said. "What are they thinking? What did you do?"

Ginny reached the second to last corner, and took one last moment to look at the pitch before the stairs turned away. The players were all making their ways back to the center of the pitch. "I did the right thing, and I don't know what they're thinking," she called back over her shoulder, "but I don't think they plan on failing."

Ginny didn't say anything more and focused on getting down the stairs. She began down the last flight of stairs just as she started to feel a burning sensation in her legs. With one last burst of energy, she leaped down the last few stairs and stumbled as she hit the ground. As she tried to catch her breath, Hermione reached the ground and walked over closer to her.

"This is bad, Ginny. We need to tell the Aurors."

"No!" Ginny barked. "There's no time."

"Ginny! The Death Eaters are here," Hermione hissed. "Don't you see? Fifteen Death Eaters, twenty Aurors, and thirty Brotherhood wizards? They all hate each other. If someone figures out how to take down the wards, we'll be standing in the middle of a war zone! We have to stop the match!"

"I know," replied Ginny as she pulled the small egg-shaped object from one of her pockets.

"What's that?" asked Hermione.

"A signal," Ginny answered, feeling quite a bit more uncertain about this plan than she had when Harry told her. Did he know about the Death Eaters? What would the Aurors do? It didn't matter. One way or the other, the match had to be stopped. "Once I throw this, we're going to want to get moving."

"What sort of signal is it?" Hermione asked warily. "What is going to happen?"

"I don't know," Ginny replied, "but I'd rather not be around to find out." She rolled the egg around in her hand, feeling its weight and judging the best way to throw it. She looked up toward the tower. Harry had told her to toss it into one of the towers. He wouldn't have told her to do it if it was dangerous. She pulled her arm back, and prepared to launch the egg.

"Wait!" Hermione shouted as she lunged at Ginny's arm. "What about Ron? If I'm in danger, he will be, too! Are you just going to leave him here?"

Ginny lowered her arm. "Don't worry about Ron. He'll be safe, I swear."

"How can you know that?"

"Hermione," Ginny growled, "did you not hear me say that we _don't have time for this_?"

A chorus of shouts erupted from the pitch. Ginny whirled about, and pointed her wand toward the noise. A second later, she realized what had happened. The referee had tossed the Quaffle. The match had started and she still hadn't signaled Harry. For a few seconds she hesitated, waiting for some sign that something horrible was happening. What would Harry do if he hadn't gotten the signal yet?

Ginny reached into another pocket and pulled out a tightly rolled bundle. "Put this on —_NOW_!" she ordered Hermione.

Thankfully, Hermione said nothing and simply did as Ginny had told her. While Hermione was tying the cloak around her neck, Ginny was taking aim at the platform of the nearby tower. There was no more time to think. She had to just do it and hope that everything turned out well. In one fluid motion, she launched the egg into the sky on a direct course for the ceiling over the top platform.

There was a second or two of complete silence as the small projectile began slowly arcing downwards. It didn't matter. Ginny's aim and anxiety augmented strength more than sufficient. With a barely audible _crack_, the egg smashed against the ceiling of the tower, releasing a billowing cloud of mustard-yellow smoke.

Ginny quickly turned away and pulled up the hood on her cloak, prompting Hermione to do the same. She had expected shouts or explosions, or something else dramatic, but instead there was only a slowly growing murmur from the crowd.

"What exactly was that supposed to accomplish?" Hermione asked as she looked around.

It didn't seem that anyone had seen Ginny throw the egg, and even now, no one was all that interested in the two black-cloaked witches. Instead they were all watching the tower as coughing spectators stumbled down the stairs through the cloud of acrid smoke.

Beyond the tower, the match had started despite the attack, and panic started to fill Ginny's mind. Something had gone wrong. Harry said something would happen. Why wasn't anything happening?

"Er, Ginny?" Hermione began. "I don't know what you expected, but it's not happening.

* * *

Slipping past the Aurors and Brotherhood wizards at the gate had been easy. He hadn't even had to use his wand. He simply dropped a Bouncing Bonfire on the ground near the entrance and let a pair of young boys do all the work for him. He felt a little guilty when the ball struck the old tree, but a burning tree was even more of a distraction than a bouncing ball of flame. 

He'd made his way to the north tower as quickly as he could. From the shaded side of the tower, he searched the rest of the towers for any sign of Ginny. There was a chance that Hermione would be in the north tower as well, but it seemed rather unlikely. The north and south towers seemed to be the more expensive seats, as evidenced by the patches of orange in every other tower.

So he stood in the shadows and waited. Ron was flying around again, practicing maneuvers and adjusting his robes and guards. They were only waiting for the team introductions now. Ginny was running short on time. He wished that Razvan hadn't destroyed his last set of Omnioculars in March. They would have been useful here.

Time dragged on, and there was still no sign of Ginny. He hoped the Eggsplosion he'd given her wasn't faulty. The other one had cleared an entire pub in Italy in seconds. The cloud of smoke was so foul that even the rats had evacuated the building. He was certain he couldn't have missed it. Perhaps Hermione had been more difficult to find than he'd thought.

As the announcer began introducing the two teams, Harry had to force himself to take deep relaxing breaths to keep himself calm. _Ginny will find her,_ he kept telling himself. When the introductions were done, both teams flew down to the center of the field. The referee began talking to them, and Harry began nervously scanning the other five towers. There still wasn't any smoke. Something was going wrong. Why hadn't Ginny used the egg?

Harry felt a sharp pang of panic as he watched the Quaffle soar into the air. The Cannons' Chasers shot into the air and actually took control of the Quaffle. Harry couldn't help but frown. That was the best start the Cannons' had all year —and he was going to ruin the match for them.

He started to think of what he could possibly do. Something must have happened to Ginny. He doubted it was anything serious. She wouldn't have let herself be taken without a fight, and he would have seen or heard something. Perhaps she was having problems convincing Hermione without some solid proof of the danger they were all in. Short of running onto the pitch and announcing himself, he didn't know how he could get everyone's attention. Seconds later, the thought vanished as a giant cloud of sickly yellow smoke bloomed from the top of one of the towers.

Ginny had done it. She and Hermione were escaping.

Harry pulled his wand and began focusing on a stand of spare brooms near a referee's tent under the south tower. If Ron was on a broom, the best way to protect him would be from the air. He knew that in a matter of seconds, Tarus would break down the wards and he'd be able to summon himself a broom.

A few seconds later, Harry was still holding his wand and focusing on the distant broom stand. Nothing was happening. All the spectators from the bombarded tower were fleeing as quickly as the staircase allowed, but no wards came down, and no curses were fired at Ron. At the moment, Ron wasn't even paying attention to the match. He was staring at the tower, no doubt wondering if Hermione was alright.

Had Dragomir and Andros lied to him? Where were the Brotherhood wizards? What were they waiting for? Harry strode across the front of the tower and started running up the staircase to try and find Hermione and Ginny. From the landing at the first corner, he stopped and looked out across the scattered crowd still on the ground.

Then he saw them. Most of the crowd was standing still, as though they had been shackled in place. Standing near the tower was a pair of wizards in black cloaks who seemed to be arguing with each other. On the other side of the tower, Harry caught another pair of wizards running through the crowd. They weren't wearing the uniforms he'd seen on the Aurors, so they had to be with the Brotherhood. Seconds later he found another pair, and then a third. They all had their wands out and they were running toward Hermione and Ginny.

They didn't need to break the wards. They could simply grab both of them and there would be nothing Harry could do to stop them. As he tried to think of something to do, he saw one of the witches throw something at the tower again. Harry watched in surprise as a dozen or more vines burst out of the ground and began wrapping themselves around the tower. The first pair of wizards didn't see them until it was too late, and as they passed the tower, they were immediately overwhelmed by the aggressive tangle of stalks and leaves. They struggled against them, but to no avail. With the wards in place, they were unable to free themselves.

From somewhere above him, a voice was chanting. He looked up and saw a wand pointing out over the railing. It had to be Grigore. Guessing his intentions, Harry leaped down the stairs trying to reach the pitch as quickly as possible. Just as his feet struck the grass, a huge, jagged bolt of light shot across the sky above him, tearing through the air with the sound of ripping linen.

Grigore had broken the wards, and now he was coming down the stairs.

Harry dashed across the dusty path and through clumps of shocked wizards. As the first flashes of spells danced in the corner of his eyes, he ran forward, trying to get a clear view of the broom stand again. Suddenly a horrible realization struck him. Grigore was headed right toward Ron. He had to find some way of warning him. After only a split second of contemplation, he acted on the first idea he had.

Running forward onto the pitch, he cleared half the distance between the path and the posts of the goal hoops. He closed his eyes, and forced himself to remember the events of the past year: all the running, all the fighting, all of the people Grigore had hurt to get to him. Then he opened his eyes and pointed his wand into the sky.

"_Annihilisto!_"

The center goal hoop exploded with an ear-shattering _Crack_. Less than twenty feet away, Ron nearly dropped from his broom, but quickly recovered and spiraled away from the sound as quickly as his broom could take him.

Harry strode forward and viciously slashed his wand at the three poles in front of him. A brilliant arc of orange flame sliced cleanly through them, making them twist crazily before dropping to the pitch.

As he hoped, the pitch filled with shouts and screams from all the towers. On the grass below, the referees were shouting to clear the area as dozens of hexes erupted from every corner of the pitch.

Above him, Harry watched as Ron shot off toward the south tower. The other players had seen the explosion, and they had also quickly turned, twisted or looped away from the shower of hexes. The flight barriers put up to keep the Snitch and Bludgers near the pitch had become a trap. Unable to simply fly away, and unwilling to join the spectators on the ground, the players were pinned between the invisible barriers and a cloud of hexes being tossed at them. At first it was not easy to keep an eye on Ron, but that changed quickly: Ron was the one who all the hexes were aimed at. Harry raised his wand, pointing it across the pitch.

"_Accio Broom!_"

One of the brooms leaped off its stand and began sailing toward him. In the back of his mind, he could hear the rumbling echoes of explosions on the other side of the towers. He tried not to think about them. Ginny and Hermione could take care of themselves. The Brotherhood was here for him and Ron, not them.

The broom was nearly to him. His eyes looked to the sky, searching for the wizard who seemed to be in the most danger. Just as he spotted Ron, he felt the smooth handle of a broom strike his open hand. With one fluid movement, he swung his leg over the broom and kicked off the ground. He felt the rush of wind against his face and a sudden impact like a Bludger to his back.

The force tossed him from his broom and sent him tumbling across the grass. His broom landed a few feet away. He looked around to see if he could spot the Bludger, but there was nothing to see. It hadn't been a Bludger at all, but a powerful hex. Instead of the sky, he searched the horizon, and found a pair of cloaked wizards striding toward him. He reached for the broom, but as soon as his hand touched it, it became blazing hot, scorching his hand and splintering into glowing embers only a second later.

He realized his mistake now. He was in the middle of the pitch, visible to almost everyone. He needed to find cover. He scrambled to his feet and ran for the edge of the pitch, where crowds of wizards were flowing toward the only exit. He kept low to the ground, trying to leave no part of himself unprotected as he neared the panicking crowd. He felt a second curse ricochet off his shoulder, and after stumbling a bit, he regained his balance and plunged into the dense wall of fleeing wizards.

However, his safety only meant that there were that many more wizards available to help in the attempt to capture Ron. The only good news Harry could think of at the time was that he hadn't seen any Killing Curses used yet. They were still trying to capture him, not just kill him. That would give him time. He needed to find a broom, but he needed to be a little more discrete about it. If he could follow the path, he could slip through the crowd and reach the broom stand without having to make himself quite as visible as he had been.

He only had to hope that Ron would last that long, and that Ginny and Hermione were escaping with the rest of the spectators.

* * *

Ginny could barely hear herself think over all the screaming and shouting. The river of people running down the path to the gate had come to an unexpected stop when a small wooden stand selling gaudy orange hats had exploded in a wave of flame and a shower of sparks. 

The gate was down the path, almost within sight. She thought she should have been able to see it, but thick dark smoke was hanging in the air around her. After the explosion, she and Hermione had ducked behind a large stone building that seemed to be some sort of large meeting hall. Twenty or more other wizards had run to join them, all seeking shelter from the violence occurring nearby.

"We have to go back!" Hermione shouted.

"We can't go back!" Ginny replied. "It's worse up there!" To confirm her statement, the ground shuddered and a second later they were struck with the low _thud_ of some explosion up at the pitch.

Hermione glared at her. "I _know_ it's worse up there! We left Ron up there! We need to help him!"

"No!" Ginny argued. "We need to get out of here! Ron's on a broom. He'll be fine. Please, trust me." Ginny paused to peek around the corner. Dark shapes were still running about, crisscrossed by the occasional frightened wizard, trying to make a run for it through the haze.

The air was still filled with dark smoke and angry shouts. Ginny thought she could make out the shapes of three wizards huddling under a short stone wall near the remnants of the wooden stand. They looked to be Aurors, though they weren't doing much fighting. Instead, they were simply hiding behind the wall as two groups of wizards exchanged powerful spells in the middle of the path. The air sizzled and snapped with the energy they were tossing at each other.

A pair of smaller explosions filled the air with even more sooty smoke, making it nearly impossible to see the other side of the path. There was a moment of peace, then a shower of curses from the direction of the gate. There was a truncated cry, then the sound of three sets of feet sprinting up the path toward the pitch. One of the sides was retreating. If the other wizards followed them, they would have their chance to slip past them. More curses zipped past them, blasting apart other stalls and ripping trees from the ground. They weren't running after the other wizards, they were looking for Ginny and Hermione.

Maybe if they timed it just right, they could move around the building and slip past them. Ginny kept watching, waiting for them to appear through the smoke. If she couldn't see them, she was certain they wouldn't be able to see her. Then, slowly, she realized that she could see them. She had taken the first two as the burnt ruins of a cart, but she saw them move and gesture to each other.

They were little more than shadows, but she recognized them now: tall, with black robes, pointed hats, and dark masks obscuring their faces. The pair of Death Eaters seemed to be inspecting the body of one of the less fortunate spectators. Then, like a trio of ships cutting through the fog, three more Death Eaters strode forward. Behind them, the silhouettes of eight other wizards in the same pointed hats slowly approached.

"We need to go!" Ginny shouted as she grabbed Hermione's shoulder and pushed her away from the path. There was a sharp whistle and the area suddenly went deadly quiet. Hermione stared at the path, and through the heavy air, Ginny could see her face going pale. For several seconds no one moved or made a sound.

Without any warning, the air was split with a sharp _crack_. A second later, Ginny felt as though she'd been hit with a bucket of cold water. She looked down at her cloak, but saw nothing. When she looked up, Hermione was staring at her.

"Your— your hair," she whispered. "It's... red."

"Hold on," a nearby witch whispered. "You're that girl from the poster, aren't you? You're the one they're looking for!"

Ginny waved her hands, pleading for the witch to keep quiet.

"It's her," the witch said in a louder voice. She was panicked and thinking only of her own safety. "She's here! It's her!" she shouted out.

The witch's voice seemed to be swallowed by the dark air, but not quick enough. Seconds later, Ginny heard the sound of heavy boots on dusty earth, and they were coming right toward her.

"Come on!" Hermione said as she tugged Ginny away from the path. The other wizards hiding behind the building shrank away from them as they passed. They turned the far corner running as fast as they could. On the other side of the building was a bizarre maze of tents and fences. It seemed to be a small village of buildings, probably for the various groundskeepers.

Ginny and Hermione dodged between the tents, working their way in the general direction of the main gate. Behind them, they could hear the shouts of the Death Eaters as they blasted their way through the winding paths. Ahead of them was one large red tent. As they ran toward it, Ginny veered to the right, but Hermione went left.

It took a few seconds before Ginny realized what had happened. About the time she noticed, she heard Hermione calling out to her. She shouted back and was rewarded with an explosion as the fence between them was ripped down. Hermione came leaping through the hole, followed by a Death Eater. Ginny pulled her wand, and Hermione dropped to the ground. A quick stunner dropped the Death Eater, and Ginny quickly pulled Hermione to her feet.

"If we get split up again—" Ginny said as they ran for a line of tall trees, "—just run. We'll meet up at _my_ house, alright? Don't wait for me, just run."

"And leave you?" Hermione shouted back.

"If we waste time trying to find each other, we'll both end up dead," Ginny yelled. The line of trees was getting closer. They were only seconds away from it. Those trees meant that they couldn't be too far from the main gate. As they passed under the first trees, Ginny felt her stomach leap. They were going to make it. Harry was going to protect Ron. They were all going to be safe.

The Death Eaters were firing curses into the trees, but they had no hope of hitting either Ginny or Hermione. As they ran, Ginny slowly started to fall behind. It seemed that even Hermione had more endurance than she did. In the distance, Ginny could see the far edge of the tree stand. She was almost out. With grim determination, she forced herself to put every last bit of energy she had into reaching that gate. In her mind, she was already concentrating on the alley on Grimmauld Place.

She never even saw the dark shadow behind the tree. In a second, it had lashed out catching her cheekbone with some horribly hard part of its arm. Pain exploded through her skull, followed by matching blows to her hips and shoulder as she slammed into the ground. As she blinked her eyes to try and clear the tears forming in them, she saw a dark shape looming over her.

In the back of her mind, she recognized the rough, pebbled texture of the fabric. It was dragon-hide, and well made, not the rough stuff that students normally bought. It was not unlike the quality used to strap her to a table a week ago. Now, that didn't seem quite so bad.

Her feet were no longer touching the ground, and the dragon-hide glove was pressing into her neck, pinning her against the rough bark of one of the trees. Her eyes blinked wildly trying to get a clear view of the world around her. With luck, a clearer view might give her some idea of whether it would be getting easier to breathe, or harder.

"Running again, eh?" a rough voice cackled. "We're a little smarter than those Brotherhood traitors."

Ginny sucked in wheezing breath and tried to focus on the wizard in front of her. He still had his mask on, but it sounded a lot like the same Death Eater who had stopped her at last week's match.

"Where's Potter?" he asked with a squeeze of her neck. After she let out a piteous gurgle, he relaxed his grip a little to let her answer.

"He's... dead," Ginny answered weakly.

"Not yet, he isn't," the Death Eater replied. "He's here, and if he's smart, he brought the wand with him."

A number of dark shapes were gathering behind the Death Eater holding her. They were laughing and jeering. Ginny tried not to think of what was going to happen to her. Would they kill her? Or would they just take her as a prisoner? Which was worse?

"Does she have it?" one of the dark shapes asked. There was some jumbled conversation followed by a terse order: "Search her, then!"

As she hung pinned to the tree she felt a number of hands running over her robes, searching all her pockets and patting her down, searching for anyplace she might have put a wand. Her own wand had been dropped a few feet away after being knocked to the ground.

"It's not here!" one voice announced, only to be answered by a second. "Then find Potter!"

Most of the dark shapes disappeared with a rustling of grass and fallen leaves. It seemed only two of them were left, but it was getting harder to tell. Her vision was blurring again, and it was getting darker.

"Where is the wand?" growled the one holding her neck. "That fool Grigore doesn't have it. The Ministry doesn't have it. I think you know where it is. Tell me and we'll see that you live long enough to beg for your life at the feet of the Dark Lord."

Ginny's lips pulled back in a strained smile. "I don't know where it is, and you'll never find it if you kill me."

The Death Eater leaned forward, crushing her windpipe and suffocating her. "Who said we were going to kill you?" he laughed. "We'll sell you to Tarus for the wand. He'd do anything to keep his little pet safe."

Ginny coughed out a laugh. "Didn't you hear?" her voice rasped. "We had a bit of a row. We don't get on anymore."

"I think you underestimate him. If he doesn't have the wand, he will kill whoever has it and trade it for your life."

"No... you're the one—" Ginny paused to draw in a wheezing breath, "—who's underestimating him. He'll take the wand and resurrect Voldemort himself. Tarus will control him, or take his power, and let you lot twist in the wind." Ginny forced her eyes to look into the Death Eater's face. "He'll betray you, again."

"Enough of this!" barked the other Death Eater. "Where is the wand?"

"I don't have it."

"Where did that little Mudblood coward run off to?" he spat. "Does she know where it is? Speak up and we might let her live! Where is Granger?"

"Right here," came an answering voice. A second later there was a bright flash of light, and the wizard who had been talking to her slumped into the one who was pinning her to the tree. The two Death Eaters tumbled to the ground together, leaving Ginny to collapse limply at the foot of the tree.

The Death Eater who'd been choking her pulled his wand out and jabbed it toward Hermione, shouting "_Stupefy!_" The beam of light struck her, and she collapsed much like the other Death Eater had. Instead of turning his wand on Ginny, he aimed it at the sky. A jet of green sparks rocketed into the sky, exploding into millions of sparks above the trees.

It was only a matter of time before more Death Eaters would arrive. There would be no escape then. Ginny's eyes quickly surveyed the area. They were close to the path and close to the edge of the trees. The gate was very close. She had to try.

Summoning all her strength, she pushed off the tree and lunged for her wand. The Death Eater hadn't expected it, and his first hex missed her by a few feet. Ginny felt her hand close around the familiar shape of her wand.

"_Expelliarmus!_" she cried. The Death Eater's wand leaped from his hand, sailing in a lazy arc high above them before landing some distance away among months of dropped leaves and twigs. She pushed herself onto wobbly legs and trudged over to the Death Eater. She couldn't leave him conscious. She and Hermione wouldn't make it twenty feet before he caught them.

For a split second her mind contemplated her options for dealing with him. Stunning him seemed to almost be a reward. He would have killed her. He wouldn't have spent a second wondering if she truly deserved to die. He wouldn't think back to that moment for years wondering if she'd done the right thing. In that brief moment, she remembered the face of the dead man in Giza, Lawrence MacClintock. Maybe the Death Eaters could kill without remorse, but she couldn't.

With a disgusted scowl, Ginny stunned him then delivered a brutal kick to his ribs. A second image flashed to the front of her mind: Lawrence had done the very same thing to Stefan Buscan after killing him. Ginny felt her blood running cold.

There wasn't any time left. She had to go. Other Death Eaters were coming. She aimed her wand at Hermione and shouted, "_Enervate!_" Seconds later, Hermione was crawling to her feet, and searching for her wand.

"You came back," Ginny commented.

Hermione frowned and looked toward the pitch. "You needed help. I couldn't leave you behind. Just like I can't leave Ron behind."

"He's being taken care of. If we can escape, I know he'll be just fine. Right now he's probably worrying about you. Once we're safe, he'll be able to escape, too. Come on, we have to go," Ginny told her. "He sent up a signal. More of them are coming."

Hermione snatched up her wand, and shoved Ginny ahead of her. They ran for the path now, not the edge of the trees. It was closer, and they'd be able to find the gate faster from the path. It couldn't be far. Then they'd be safe. They broke out of the trees and onto the smooth path. They could see the gate, and the path to it was clear. Ginny turned to check the other direction, and felt her stomach tighten.

"Hermione!" she shouted. "We've got to go _now_!"

Hermione took a second to look down the path, then turned and bolted for the gate with Ginny on her heels. Behind them, a rolling battle of smoke, wizards and wildly aimed curses was charging down the path like a raging storm.

* * *

Harry slipped between clumps of wizards as they escaped from their towers and fled down the path toward the gate. His mind was getting more and more troubled by the growing volume of shouts and screams muffled by distance. Something was happening down the path that didn't sound good. 

He didn't have time to think about that for the moment. That was the way he would need to take to escape, but he'd never make it on foot like the rest of them. The Brotherhood would spot him long before he made it back to the gate. Right now, he needed to find a quicker way to get to the gate. Speed was the key. If he could get a broom, he and Ron could leave before the Brotherhood and the Aurors even knew where they were.

The rack of spare brooms was only a little farther away. It was sitting by the officials' tent at the base of the south tower. He paused for a moment in the shadows of the nearest tower, trying to figure out just where Ron was.

Ron, along with several other players, were dodging curses and flying from tower to tower, picking up stranglers and ferrying them to the pitch below. He didn't yet realize that if he would simply leave, that the attack would come to an abrupt end.

Harry took a deep breath and decided to make his dash for the brooms. The south tower was almost completely empty now, and there were no more wizards for him to camouflage himself behind. So he simply ran.

When he'd covered only half the distance, someone realized what he was doing. A large bolt of yellow light struck the rack of brooms, destroyed it, and then exploded against the wall of the tower. The masonry had been enchanted to resist damage from storms and Bludgers, not that type of intense magical bombardment, and the stone fractured and crumbled. Harry skidded to a halt, then turned and ran back, just in time to avoid the flying debris as the stone tower crashed onto the pitch.

Harry ran back to the shelter of the other tower and watched as the Quidditch players wheeled about the sky in dismay. They spiraled higher, probably trying to avoid the curses aimed at them from the ground. Harry needed to get up on a broom, but he couldn't see a way.

Then, as if fate had decided to test his will, one of the players dropped from the sky. A second, smaller person was sitting on the back of the broom. As they dipped low to the ground, the second wizard stepped off and ran for the path. Harry knew he wouldn't get another opportunity.

As the player pulled up on his broom handle, Harry's wand flashed out and took aim. "_Stupefy!_" he shouted.

He was rewarded with a bright red beam of light and a sudden change in the direction the player (a Chaser, by the look of it) was headed. He tumbled backward, but his broom sailed forward, finally striking the ground and flipping end over end before settling on the grass.

Harry apologized to the poor wizard on the pitch, hoping he wasn't injured, and prayed that his broom hadn't been damaged. Harry ran across the pitch directly toward the broom. He felt a curse strike his lower back, sending hot pain through his legs. The broom was only feet away. He snatched it from the ground, then rolled, dodging another hex.

When he got back to his feet, his now useless cloak was already half off. He finished pulling it off and found the wizard who had attacked him. It was a young wizard standing behind the ruin of the old south tower. After quickly twisting his cloak into a long rope-like shape, he cast a quick charm on it and tossed it toward the wizard.

As he kicked off the ground, he saw the long, thin cloak wind its way up the wizard's leg and wrap itself around his arm, sending his last curse at the ground instead of Harry.

Once in the air, he realized that while he might have accomplished his goal, there was now another obstacle between him and escape: the other Quidditch players. Apparently, his trick on the pitch had not gone unnoticed. Now the other players had drawn their wands and they were aiming curses at him.

Harry tried to ignore them. He didn't want to retaliate and risk confirming their suspicions. Luckily, the broom he had was indeed made for a Chaser, and while it was no match for his Firebolt, it would be enough. He dropped his chest parallel with the handle, and shot forward, following Ron's flight as he circled a tower.

Harry gripped the handle and tried to catch Ron. If he could speak with him, he felt confident that Ron would trust him. However, that was not as easy as he hoped it might have been. Ron's skill on a broom had improved over the years, while Harry's had mostly been used only for desperate situations where he was trying to run away from something. It had been over two years since he'd actually tried to _catch_ something.

As Ron dove for the pitch, Harry followed and noticed something peculiar. They weren't the only wizards dropping to the pitch. Ahead of him, Ron gave a cry of frustration as a pair of wizards pulled up sharply and turned to fly right toward Harry and Ron. One of them was in normal robes, but Harry recognized him as a member of the Brotherhood. The other was wearing black robes with a mask over his face: a Death Eater.

_The Death Eaters are here, too?_ Harry asked himself as he and Ron turned toward the new wizards in some form of silent agreement. As they neared the other wizards, they pulled up sharply and spiraled away. Ron checked to see if Harry was still on his tail, but he didn't seem to recognize him.

Taking a gamble, Harry let go of the broom long enough to remove the disguise he'd given himself. It was no use hiding from the Brotherhood. They already knew who he was. Harry leaned over again, urging his broom forward and into a tight turn to avoid the Death Eater and follow Ron.

As he pulled out, Ron looked behind him again and for a second, Harry thought that Ron was about to fall of his broom.

"You think I'm going to fall for that?" he called back.

"No," Harry shouted as he pointed forward, "I think you're going to turn yourself into jelly on that tower if you don't pull up!"

Ron turned his head forward again, and pulled up just enough to skim through the center of the tower between the benches and the stone ceiling.

"What do you want?" Ron asked.

Harry didn't think that now was the best time to talk, but if that's what it was going to take, he'd do it. "I want you to leave as quickly as you can and meet me at Padfoot's old house." Ron didn't reply right away, but his flying became a little more relaxed. Harry took a moment to try and figure out where the Death Eater and Brotherhood wizard had gotten off to.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Ron shouted over his shoulder.

"You don't! Just escape and go to Padfoot's!"

As they shot past another tower, a curse rocketed past Ron, missing him by only inches. Ron instinctively dove and spun away. He hadn't seen that the curse had come from directly behind the tower. From the corner of his eyes, Harry caught the younger wizard dropping as well, with his wand trained on Ron.

Without thinking, Harry drove the tip of his broom down, sending himself into a deep dive. He twisted as he dropped. He saw a flash of sparks and gripped his broom as tightly as he could.

The pain was substantial, but not enough to break his grasp on the broom. As he pulled himself out of the dive, he saw another object drop past him. The Brotherhood wizard landed with dull thud and a pained moan on the grass next to the tower. He had been tightly bound with thin rope. Harry quickly looked up, and found Ron looking back at him with his wand still pointed at the place the other wizard had been a second ago. There was an odd expression of awe and wonder on his face.

A second later, another curse exploded against the tower, ripping chunks of stone from the wall. Finished sharing their moment, Ron and Harry shot off into the sky again. Only seconds behind them was the Death Eater, firing off more curses.

He had the right idea, Harry realized. They hadn't invented a broom yet which could outrun a curse. He didn't need to keep up with them; he only had to hit them with curses as he followed. The plan worked quite well, and after only a few seconds, he had struck Harry with another hex.

"We have to go!" Harry shouted.

"Not until Hermione's safe!" Ron replied.

Harry pointed over toward the gate, where sharp flashes of light could be seen piercing the dark smoke. "If she's not safe yet, she'll need our help, not a diversion!"

"Not if we bring them!" Ron shouted, pointing to the pitch. Harry looked down and saw a clump of twelve or more wizards standing on the path and watching the events unfolding above them. They were more Brotherhood wizards, and they were would follow Ron and Harry wherever they went. They needed to fly, but they couldn't do it with the Death Eater firing hexes at them every other second.

"What about a Bludger?" Harry called out.

Ron nodded and pulled his broom into a climbing spiral. Far above them, the remaining Quidditch players had been circling and waiting for it to be safe to come back down. As they approached, Harry began separating himself from Ron.

Ron let out a sharp whistle. "Fillywick! Set us up!"

Far off, Harry heard the sharp sound of a bat hitting a Bludger. Ron and Harry shot off, and seconds later, the Bludger was quickly catching them. Just as the Bludger was about to hit them, Harry turned sharply, drawing it away.

It was risky. Ron didn't have a shield cloak, but after one more hex, neither would Harry. He twisted the broom roughly, turning in tight circles and loops, trying to give Ron a little more time. Finally, he straightened out, and shot forward as quickly as he could. The Bludger took a more indirect route, but it was following him.

He was flying directly at Ron. The Death Eater was still behind him, firing off hexes. They closed the distance with shocking speed, and at the last moment, all Harry needed to do was lean his head just slightly to one side and Ron veered sharply to the other side. Harry flattened himself to his broom and passed within inches of the Death Eater.

The Bludger, however, did not. Finding a much easier target, it happily drove itself right into the Death Eater's chest pulling him off his broom instantly.

When Harry got his bearings, Ron was already headed toward the path where the battle seemed to have spread out quite a bit. The trees were on fire now, and more Aurors had come down from the towers to try and protect the spectators who were seeking any possible way to escape the attack.

Harry and Ron pulled alongside each other and began scanning the scene below them. "How are we supposed to find her?" Ron asked as he slowly dropped closer to the ground.

"She's with Ginny," Harry replied. "They're supposed to head directly for the exit."

"Ginny!" Ron exclaimed. "Why is—"

"Not now, Ron!"

As they began flying over the main path, Harry was shocked by the amount of destruction below him. They circled the path a few times, dodging curses and looking for any pair of witches that seemed to be trying to escape instead of hide or fight.

The scene was disheartening. Harry couldn't see how anyone could have made it past the battle that was being fought there. In support of that thought was the swirling crowd of wizards fleeing the area, seeking any area that was not the Quidditch Pitch or the path to the gate. Perhaps that had been the plan. Only Ginny and Hermione would be trying to leave, and it would make them easy to spot.

Just as Harry was about to move to fly lower, Ron cried out and pointed farther down the path. There was a path of smoke and destruction leading to the large clump of trees near the gate, and bright green sparks were exploding and crackling over the top of them.

It was a signal, but not the type that Harry wanted to see.

Everyone beneath him seemed to take note as well. The spectators screamed and shouted and tried to run farther away, while a flood of wizards spilled through the barriers and smoke. They ran for the gate as quickly as they could, heedless of curses or fire or who they had been ordered to attack. Something had happened near the gate, and Harry was suddenly certain of where Ginny and Hermione were.

Ron didn't need to be told. He was already dropping out of the sky and shooting forward as quickly as his broom could take him. A band of Death Eaters was already far ahead of them. As they flew, they tried to stun or disable as many as they could, but there were too many of them, and not enough time.

Not far from the gate, Harry saw two small figures stumble into the middle of the path. Within seconds, a shower of spells hit the path all around them. They were running, but the Death Eaters were too close. Ron stunned one of them, but missed on his next try. There just wasn't enough time.

Harry let go of his broom and aimed his wand. He focused on a patch of ground between Ginny and Hermione and the oncoming Death Eaters. A slow heat began to fill him, a boiling anger at all the wizards who were trying to use his friends to get to him. Suddenly, pain shot through his scar, his eyes flew open, and he watched in amazement as a wave of green light shot toward the wizards.

Even as it was tossing the last wizard to the ground, Harry felt a hex slam into his back. His broom lurched, then snapped and fell out from under him. With a quick banked turn, Ron leaned over and caught Harry's hand.

"Hang on!" Ron shouted as he leaned forward and shot toward the Gate.

He watched as Hermione and Ginny ran through the gate and then simply disappeared. Harry clutched his wand and cast a quick Shield Charm to protect himself and Ron from a pair of hexes headed their way. They were only seconds from the gate.

"Harry!" Ron shouted in a panicked voice. "Harry, I can't let go of the broom! I can't get my wand."

"Don't worry," Harry shouted back. "I've got it."

Harry watched the gate fly past them, and he closed his eyes. In a fraction of a second, he focused on Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the only place he thought of as home, the place where he would finally get to see his friends again.

With a _crack_ Harry and Ron disappeared, leaving Ron's broom to tumble through the air before striking the ground and splintering into four jagged pieces.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

So, the gang's all back together. This will be the start of the final ascending tension. Hang on.

I've had issues with uploading documents, so Chatper 18 is also ready. I'll post it in a day or so.


	18. Grimmauld Place

**CHAPTER 18**

**Grimmauld Place**

* * *

Harry and Ron Apparated into the alley on Grimmauld Place with quite a bit less grace than either would have hoped. They had been flying rather fast as they passed through the gate, and Disapparation had done little to cancel their momentum. 

Harry felt his feet strike the ground, but before he could even think of trying to balance on them, they were violently yanked out from under him. The next parts of him to hit the pavement were his legs and hips, giving him just enough time to see just where this pattern was headed. Instinctively, he curled his arms over his face and braced himself for the worst. In the fractions of a second before he slammed into the ground, he could hear a panicked shout from Ron. Unlike Harry, he would have enough time to fully appreciate what a collision with concrete would feel like.

As Harry's ribs and shoulders struck the ground, excruciating pain shot through his body. In one instant, the silent darkness of his protected head was filled with blinding light and a deafening ringing sound. He felt suddenly weightless, then dizzy, and then another burst of pain shot up his body from his legs. It felt as if the world was spinning around him. He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not, and he couldn't hear anything through the shrill screaming coming from the back of his head.

The world slowly stopped spinning, and settled on simply throbbing around him. He felt himself gasping for air, and realized that his eyes were already open. He couldn't see anything but a bluish haze. After blinking a couple more times, his weak consciousness suggested a cause: his glasses. He tried to sit up and look for them, but none of his limbs were cooperating. He was able to move his head slightly, so he looked around. There was a large fuzzy shape not very far from him. It wasn't moving.

The ringing in his ears slowly faded and was replaced with an incomprehensibly muffled tone. Whatever it was, it was getting louder. His hearing sharpened more, and he was able to make out words.

"Who are you?" a large blur was saying. It was black, with a light colored part on top of it, framed by a large browning blur. _Hermione_, his mind told him. Harry squinted his eyes, and realized that she had her wand out and pointed directly at him. He tried to answer her, but couldn't do much more than cough.

"Get up!" she commanded. Harry tried to but as soon as he put any weight on his arm, hot slivers of pain shot from his elbow to his shoulder. He collapsed on the ground again, gasping.

A second shape ran up behind Hermione. This one was topped with a longer crimson blur, obviously Ginny. "He's hurt!" she cried.

The two shapes bumped into each other. "He's one of _them_, Ginny!" she shouted. "Aren't you?" she added sharply. "You work for Grigore Tarus, don't you?"

"Not anymore," Harry replied through clenched teeth. His arm was beginning to throb, making it difficult to think of anything but his arm.

"Tell me your name," she demanded.

"His name is Harry Potter!" Ginny shouted angrily as she finally pushed past Hermione. A second later she was crouched at Harry's side and trying to slip his glasses back on his head.

"He's— but..." Hermione stammered. "I mean— How can you be sure?"

Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position and cautiously prodded his other arm. "The thing Ginny threw into the tower, the Eggsplosion, I gave it to her. I nicked the only two of them from her brothers' shop in February. Of course, I didn't know they were the only ones, but I couldn't really return them, could I?"

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because thieves don't usually feel bad and return stuff," Ron explained from somewhere behind Harry. He walked to where Harry could see him. He looked no worse off than Harry, but not all that much better either. "It would have been suspicious. Fred and George would have gotten curious."

"While we're talking about curiosity," said Harry, "we might want to think about going inside. Those two Muggles look a bit worried and the last thing we need is the Ministry snooping around here."

Harry couldn't quite figure out Hermione's expression. She looked almost frightened. Or was it ashamed. She turned to look at the Muggles down the street. A pair of men in suits and a woman holding a bag of trash. They were looking at each other as if they were trying to decide whether to ask the other two if they had seen the same thing.

"Who cares?" Ron commented. "Let the Ministry come. I'd rather deal with them than the others."

Hermione was shaking her head. "No. It'll be worse if they find him," she said weakly. "I'll— I'll go talk with the Muggles."

"You might want to put up another Discouragement Charm while you're out there," Harry croaked. "I'll be less twitchy without Muggles walking past the front door."

"We're staying here?" Ginny asked. "Won't they come here looking for us?"

"Why would they do that?" Harry responded as he inspected his wand for damage.

"It's not hidden anymore," Ginny replied immediately. "The whole Order knows it's here. Charlie knew it was here. The Death Eaters know about it, too. Who knows how many people know about it?"

"The Death Eaters know that the Order was here, but they abandoned it before Dumbledore died. The other members of the Order know about it, but no one would have guessed I still use it. They know you three come here. If I was around, you'd have spotted me, right?"

"But the Brotherhood—" Ginny started to argue.

"I never mentioned this place to them," Harry said. "Not even to Josef. They don't know about it. I tested that quite a few times. If Grigore has been waiting all this time to surprise me, then he's too daft for us to worry about." Harry paused a moment, looking a little more troubled. "Unless, of course, you told him," he added, looking at Ginny.

"Never," she answered, shaking her head.

"Then we should be safe here —for a while, at least," he said.

"You're certain?" Ginny asked worriedly.

"Yes, Ginny," he replied with a smile. "We're fine. Relax. This might be your last chance to do that for a while. Everything is alright, now. Except for my arm. I don't think I landed quite right. "

After a couple of failed attempts at helping Harry to his feet, Ginny gave up and let Ron haul him up. Once Harry was on his feet, Ron flashed a bright smile and clapped him on his uninjured arm. "I knew you'd be back," he said.

"I never left," Harry replied, trying to return the same smile. Unable to maintain it, his face fell back to a wince as he, Ginny and Ron walked toward Number Twelve. Hermione was busy talking to the Muggles, but it only seemed to be making them more agitated. Harry caught two flashes of light followed a few seconds later by the sound of her running back to join them.

"Oh, I see," Ron said in an annoyed voice. "When Harry shows up, you'll Obliviate Muggles without a second thought, but when I defend your honor, it's suddenly a horrible crime."

"_Defend my honor?_" Hermione replied. "Are you still sore about that? He asked me if I'd like some flowers!"

"He smiled at you and offered a bloody great pile of flowers!"

"That's what he does, Ronald!" Hermione replied sharply. "He sells flowers! And you gave him green scales and antlers!"

"Nosy git deserved it," mumbled Ron. Harry found himself laughing, and for a few seconds he forgot the pain in his arm.

* * *

Inside the large mansion, Ginny instinctively led them to the kitchen. She pointed her wand at a nearby loaf of bread, slicing it evenly and having it flop itself on a nearby platter. 

"Good idea," Harry said as he slowly sat down at the table. "I don't think I've had a decent meal in days."

Hermione knelt down to get a closer look at Harry's arm. "Ron, if you'll help Ginny with some food, I'll try and see if there's anything I can do with this."

Ron and Ginny scoured the pantry, and found a large baked ham to go with their bread. They managed to find a small assortment of fruits and some old bottles of butterbeer, as well. It wasn't going to be a feast, but Harry didn't mind at all. In truth, his mind wasn't really on food at the time. His mind wasn't on much at all. It was busy trying to deal with the pain of Hermione poking and prodding his arm.

"It's broken," she finally announced. "Pretty badly, too. Do you know how you want to fix it?"

"A broken arm?" Ginny called out from the fireplace, where she was busy toasting bread. She narrowed her eyes at Harry. "Oh, I know just the thing for that." She stood up, dropped the toasted bread on a different platter and then proceeded to sweep everything off the table into a clattering heap on the floor.

"Lay him on the table," she ordered. "Then, we'll tie him there with escape-proof bindings and strip him down to his shorts."

Ginny heard a knife drop to the floor behind her. Ron had turned about and was giving her a bewildered look, while Hermione goggled at Ginny from her position on the floor.

"I said I was sorry about that," Harry grumbled.

"Sorry about _what_, Harry?" Hermione asked. Ginny turned and blinked innocently at Harry, waiting to see what he would say.

"I—er... It's not important right now, is it?" he replied. "I have a broken arm, and we've got a lot more pressing matters than swapping stories about the past."

Ginny looked like she was about to start doing just that, when Ron sat down next to her with a platter of the ham in front of him. "You saved Ginny and Hermione's lives, so I'm going to pretend I didn't hear any of that," he announced. "I do want some answers, though."

Harry nodded. "I assumed you would."

"Right, then. First, I just wanted to be clear: that was you talking to me after the match last week, wasn't it?"

Harry simply nodded.

"Polyjuice Potion?" Ron continued.

"It was the only way," Harry commented as he watched Hermione casting spells on his arm. "I had no idea how long the match would last, and Ginny was the only person who would have been let out onto the pitch."

"I'm sure it made perfect sense," Ron said in a strained tone, "and because you just saved my life, I'm going to try my best to avoid imagining just how you got into Ginny's clothes."

There was a flash of light, and Harry let out a pained shout. "Bloody hell, Hermione!" he said through clenched teeth. "Could you pay a little more attention to what you're doing?"

Hermione glared at him. "I'm not a Healer, Harry," she snapped. "If you're going to complain, you can go to St. Mungo's. Hold on. You can't do that," she added sarcastically. "You'd have to let the world know that you weren't dead and you couldn't even stand to tell your own friends."

Harry looked at Hermione, then over at Ron. He could see the question in their eyes. Ginny had been the same way. It was natural, after all, and if they were going to help him, they'd be better off knowing the whole story —or at least most of it. Harry reached for a butterbeer with his working arm and started talking.

"It all started the night after Voldemort was destroyed..."

* * *

Ginny sat and quietly listened to the story Harry told them. It was very similar to the one he'd already told her. In some cases, he shared some extra details that Ron or Hermione prompted him for. In other cases, he left out some details that seemed important to Ginny. He didn't mention watching Ginny on the platform at King's Cross, the fact that he'd been giving Brotherhood members special training, or anything about the Veil under the Castle. She began to keep track of the omissions, certain that there must be some reason why he didn't want to reveal them yet. 

Of course, Hermione and Ron had no idea anything had been left out. For the most part, Hermione seemed unsurprised by the whole story. She had finished mending his arm and sat next to Ron, listening to Harry as though he were filling in the history of a story she'd heard long ago. Hermione only began asking questions once Harry started talking about how Tarus had manipulated the Ministry.

Ron on the other hand, appeared to be interested in almost everything. The idea of the Brotherhood was a new thing to him, and the thought of Harry being one of them was even more unbelievable. By time Harry had gotten to the story of the attack on the Ministry, Ron had adopted the focused attention of someone who was trying to memorize every last bit of information.

He took the true story of Charlie's death better than Ginny expected —better than she herself had. Ron immediately understood what had happened, and reassured Harry that he was not to blame.

"Charlie was doing the right thing," Ron said solemnly. "He was trying to keep us all safe, and so far, it's worked. I think he'd be pleased with that."

Once Harry began explaining the things that had happened since then, Ginny noticed that more things began being left out. Harry even went so far as to skip over Ginny's visit to the Veil. Instead, he simply said that Tarus announced himself to her, and asked her to join them. As he spoke, his eyes gave her a warning glare.

The message was clear. There was something Harry didn't want to tell them. As he began explaining the discussion with Dragomir and Andros, Ginny thought back, trying to find a pattern in the things Harry was most protective about. The only thing that seemed certain was the fact that he felt uncomfortable about the Veil. Tarus had been terribly interested in it as well. What had she seen that was so important? It had only confirmed that Voldemort was dead.

"Hold on," Ron said, interrupting Harry's explanation of that afternoon's attack. "You're saying that the Brotherhood was there to turn me into some sort of bargaining piece? What about the Aurors? Why were they looking for Ginny?"

"I think they were looking for her because Grigore convinced them to," Harry guessed.

Hermione seemed to know better, though. "They were looking for Ginny because Reynard ordered them to," she corrected him. "He's convinced that she's one of them, or at least that she will be one of them soon. He planned to capture her and either force her to become a spy for him, or use her to control Tarus."

"So, Reynard is on our side?" Ron asked.

"No," Hermione answered. "No, I think he's on his own side. He practically controls Scrimgeour already. I wouldn't trust him unless we had something he really wanted."

"What about the Death Eaters, then?"

"They were after the wand," Ginny announced.

Harry's head jerked toward Ginny. "You saw them, then?"

"Yeah, Harry," she said as she rubbed her throat. "I think I saw a couple of them."

"How do you know they want the wand?" he asked intently.

"Just a good amount of intuition," Ginny answered dryly. "I figured they might be after it when a pack of them chased me down, choked me against a tree and demanded to know where the wand was."

"The asked _you_?" Harry questioned. He looked over at Hermione, but she was staring down at an uneaten slice of toast. "Why do they think—"

"Oi! Hold on," Ron called out. "Am I the only one who doesn't have a bloody clue what wand you're talking about?"

"They're talking about Voldemort's wand," Hermione explained, without looking up from her toast. She leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. "The Death Eaters have been trying to get the wand for almost a year now —since last Halloween."

"Since the day I turned on Grigore," Harry added.

Hermione nodded. "Of course, we didn't know that at the time. We thought it held some other significance. The Brotherhood didn't make itself known until just after Christmas."

"—the day Grigore started making his plans to use Ginny," Harry interrupted again.

"On New Year's Eve, a single wizard walked into the Ministry demanding to talk with Reynard. They made him wait for two days before Reynard decided that anyone who would wait that long had to have something important to say. That wizard was the first Brotherhood wizard anyone had seen for years. Reynard talked to him for hours, and when they were done, he called in all of the Unspeakables. He closed off six of the Study Rooms: The Time Room, the Chamber of Magical Anomalies, the Hall of History, the Death Room, the Hall of Prophecies, and the Vault Room. You need his approval to get into any of them, now."

"Do you think the Brotherhood warned him of the Death Eaters?"

Hermione laughed. "We didn't need that warning. The Death Eaters had already tried to get the wand three times by then." She looked up, but didn't face Harry. "There were all sorts of rumors about what Reynard had learned that day. Who knows if we'll ever learn all of it. One of the first rumors was that the Unspeakables had been sent out to find Harry." Hermione wiped at her cheek and took a short breath. "It— It was just a silly rumor, though. No one really believed it.

"It didn't take long before we all heard more reliable stories about the Brotherhood. Some people had even been given access to the Hall of History to try and find any more information about them. We thought they were our allies back then. Some of us still do, and some of us are too confused to know what to think.

"The only part I got to hear directly was about the wand," she said in a clearer voice. "Reynard himself told me. He himself assigned me to work on Voldemort's wand. He thought it was a job I would be well motivated for. He came in one day, and told me that I had to follow new security rules when I worked with the wand. I was given access to the Vault Room, but only when I was working with Voldemort's wand.

"I asked him why things were changing and he agreed to tell me." Hermione paused to take a deep breath. "He told me that he'd been informed that the Death Eaters had learned of a new spell to resurrect Voldemort. The primary component of that spell was his wand."

"Did he say what the other components were?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded silently. She looked back down at her toast, and continued. "It also called for, er... _blood of that which had housed the soul_, I think he said."

"Blood?" Harry interrupted. "I thought it was just _part_ of something which had contained his soul."

"That's what the Brotherhood told the Death Eaters, but it was a mistranslation. They don't want the Death Eaters to succeed any more than we do, but it's only a matter of time until they figure that out. The blood's a little tricker. No one ever found Voldemort's body, but maybe the Death Eaters have some of Nagini's blood, or even some of Quirrell's. It's possible that the ink of the old diary might work, if the Malfoys kept that. But the last component, it— it wasn't supposed to be possible. I didn't know why Reynard even cared..."

Harry could see another tear running down Hermione's face. "What is it, Hermione?"

Hermione finally turned to face Harry. Her eyes were glassy and bloodshot. "The last component is... the blood of wizard who killed him —all of the blood."

Harry stared back with a sober expression. "That's what it always comes down to, isn't it?" He shrugged, and said, "It doesn't really matter. They'd have to kill me anyway. I'd never let them follow through with it."

"But, it couldn't work, could it?" Ron asked. "I mean, he's really dead, right? You can't bring someone back with magic."

Hermione gave Harry a strange look, then turned away to face Ron. "No, you can't. Voldemort is gone. Nothing could bring him back."

"But, if that's true, then why would they even waste their time trying?" said Ron. "If it doesn't work, then how could anyone come up with instructions for it? Is it some sort of joke?"

"That's possible," Hermione replied. "The Brotherhood might have invented it just to get the Death Eaters' help. It's also possible that it might work if Voldemort still had part of his soul in a horcrux. He couldn't have been the only wizard to use them, and it seems likely that someone else made this spell to return such a person from their death-like existence.

"But that doesn't matter, anymore. A lot of Death Eaters had a rough time when they failed to try to return Voldemort last time. I don't think they really care if it's impossible. If it doesn't then there won't be a Voldemort to punish them, but if it does work, they will be one of his loyal followers. Considering the spot they're in, there's really no other choice.

"The problem is that it seems the Brotherhood double-crossed the Death Eaters. We think they promised to help the Death Eaters get the wand if the Death Eaters helped set a trap for Harry. That was the whole purpose behind the attack that day. But everything went wrong. The Brotherhood betrayed the Death Eaters and tried to take the wand for themselves. The Death Eaters discovered what had happened, and betrayed the Brotherhood, turning the quiet ambush into a wizarding battle. Charlie betrayed them both, tipping me off about what was going to happen, and in the process, letting Harry know just when the attack was going to happen." Hermione looked over at Harry again. "You were waiting in my office all that time, weren't you?"

Harry nodded. "As long as you had that wand, you were in danger. If the Brotherhood came for it, I think they would have left you alone, but the Death Eaters..." His voice trailed off, letting everyone reach the obvious conclusion. "When you came back and started packing it up, I knew that they must be coming."

Ron dropped a piece of ham and stared at Harry. "You stole Voldemort's wand from Hermione?"

"I didn't _steal_ it," Harry said, "I kept it safe. I never wanted it, but I couldn't let the Brotherhood or the Death Eaters have it either. It was better to have it simply disappear."

Hermione leaned forward. "That was a fine plan, Harry, but you should have given it back to the Ministry."

"Oh, right," Harry laughed bitterly, "I should have just left it with the guard at the gate, then? Or should I have given it to Reynard, and let him auction it off to whoever would give him the most power? Who could I trust? No matter who I give it to, it has to go to the Department of Mysteries. With all that you know now, you have to know that the wizard who runs the Vault Room, Marcus Lipton, is a member of the Brotherhood. His partner is Reginald Updike, one of the security wizards. If I returned it, they would have known." Harry took a moment to catch his breath.

"There is only one person in the Department of Mysteries who I could trust with such a thing, and that was the one person I was trying to keep it away from. If I gave you the wand, it would only provoke another attack. I trust _you_, Hermione, but I don't trust any of the rest of them."

Hermione frowned. "Maybe you're right, but— Well, it's no better now, is it? It doesn't take much to see what happened, Harry. The only reason we couldn't is because no one knew you were alive. The Death Eaters found someone in the Department who would talk to them. They know the Ministry doesn't have the wand, and the Ministry knows the Death Eaters don't have it. Two weeks ago, the Death Eaters demanded the wand from the Brotherhood. They denied having it, and they've just told the Ministry the same thing.

"Don't you see, Harry? They all know you've got it, now. No good can come from you hiding it. The Ministry is close to arresting Ginny just because they think she might know where it is. The Death Eaters will kill any of us to get it, and the Brotherhood is using it to force you out into the open. Just give it back to the Ministry," she pleaded. "The Brotherhood never wanted it in the first place. They just dangled it in front of the Death Eaters to get their help. They didn't plan on giving it to them the last time, why would they do it this time? The Death Eaters never broke into the Ministry without the Brotherhood's help, and even if they did, who cares? Voldemort is gone. They can't resurrect him. They can't even get the other components."

Harry sat for a moment, thinking. Everything she'd said sounded reasonable. It sounded intelligent, even clever. It was the sort of response Grigore would have thought of before he became corrupt and evil. It was the perfect plan, and yet, some tiny voice in the back of his mind was whispering a dire warning. There was some unforeseen danger.

"No," he said more strongly than he'd meant to. "If the Ministry gets the wand, something horrible is going to happen."

"What happened to you, mate?" Ron remarked. "You sound like that old bat, Trelawney. How do you know something bad's going to happen? Tea leaves? Crystal ball?"

"It's not Divination, Ron," Harry shot back. "It's... it's not the future. It's—" he paused to rub his head, "—it's right now." His eyes opened suddenly and Ginny found him staring directly at her. "The wand has to stay hidden. She's— We're all in danger if Grigore or the Death Eaters get a hold of it."

Hermione's gaze slipped from Harry to Ginny, then back. "Alright Harry," she agreed slowly. "We'll keep it hidden. Where is it now?"

Harry's eyes locked onto Hermione. "It's in the safest place I could think of."

She didn't mean to. The moment Harry finished talking, Ginny's eyes darted over to the locked cabinet Harry had refused to talk about. She knew it was a mistake, and she pulled her eyes away from it a second later. It was too late. Harry, Hermione and even Ron had noticed.

"She's wrong," Harry announced. "It's not there."

Hermione frowned and wrung her hands. "Harry," she began with a soft voice, "we can't help you protect it if you don't tell us where it is."

"And I can't protect you if you if I _do_ tell you where it is," he retorted. "I know the kind of wizard Reynard is, Hermione. If he's looking for the wand, you won't be able to keep it from him. If Grigore finds out that any of you know where the wand is, he'll get it just as easily. Trust me, Hermione. For now, the wand is safe right where it is."

"I'd trust you more if I knew it were locked in a vault in the Department of Mysteries," she replied. "We could get Lipton and Updike sacked. What could be safer than that?"

"He'd _know_, Hermione. He got into the Ministry before," argued Harry. "No. It's safer where it is right now, and it'll stay there for a hundred years if it has to. Alright? I'm not going to argue about this any more."

Hermione sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. Ron kept his eyes on his plate as he picked at the last bit of ham. The room became suddenly quiet. It was a crushing silence. Even the fire seemed to die down in obedience of his command.

Ginny couldn't stand it. "So, what do we do now?" she asked.

"Nothing," came the response from Harry. "I need to relax. I have an arm that needs to mend. We both need to eat. Ron and Hermione need to think about how they are going to explain their sudden disappearances tomorrow. Tonight, we all need to rest."

"And tomorrow?" prompted Ron.

"Tomorrow we're going to be busy," answered Harry. "I need to speak with the goblins. This place is safe enough for anything we need to do in London, but who knows where we're going to need to go next. I'll try to sneak into Knockturn Alley, as well. There is a pair of thieves I know there. Perhaps they can keep an eye out for the Brotherhood."

"I could do that," Ron chimed in. "I've got the day off. Or, at least I did have the day off. They won't be able to reschedule that match. The season's over. I can't imagine they've got anything for me to do."

"I've got other things for you," Harry replied. "I need you to go to Hogwarts. Find Lupin. Don't say anything specific. Just tell him..." Harry trailed off as if he were thinking. "Tell him to keep an eye on the Shrieking Shack. That should be enough."

"Is that all?"

"Er, no. There is one other thing," Harry admitted. "I need you to find Dobby and convince him to come here." Ron frowned in mild distaste, but nodded his agreement.

"What about us?" Ginny asked, hoping for some excuse to avoid the Ministry the next day.

"You and Hermione need to go to the Ministry and convince everyone there that everything is alright," he said to her dismay. "It'll be Sunday, but after what happened today, I don't think you'll have trouble finding someone to talk to. When you're both done, you should come back here. Ginny should—" Harry paused and perked up in his chair.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

Harry now had a troubled look on his face. "Ginny... last week you told me you had a pub friend who said he and his friends would be willing to help us."

"Er, yeah," Ginny replied. "Albert. He said he'd help me if I was ever in trouble."

"Do you trust him?"

Ginny thought for a moment. There were several types of trust. "He's not dishonest," she said, sounding defensive from the start. "He's always been kind to me. He already knows about the Brotherhood, so we wouldn't have to explain that. He's helped me hide from them before. He knows about Tarus and he doesn't like him. And he hated Henri D'Anneau."

"I like him better already," Harry commented dryly, "but can we count on him?"

"Apparently he shows up at that pub every day like clockwork."

Ron nearly choked on his butterbeer. Harry merely frowned. "That's not really making me feel any more confident, Ginny."

"Listen," she said apologetically, "he does drink quite a bit, but he's got a good heart. He can be a little... erratic." Before Harry could complain, she quickly added, "—But he always knows what's going on and what he's doing." She could still see the doubt growing in Harry's eyes. "He wants to help, Harry," she told him. "It can't hurt to let him try."

"Maybe not us, but are you willing to let him risk his life and the lives of his friends?"

"He's not a coward," she replied sternly, "and he's not an idiot. He knows what he'd be getting into."

Harry let out a long sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "Fine," he said heavily, "see if you can talk to him tomorrow evening. See how quickly he could gather his friends." Harry grabbed a piece of toast and a slice of ham.

"I need some time alone to think," he announced. "I'll be in the study." As he walked out, Ginny heard him muttering, "Dumbledore formed the Order, but all I can do is scrape together a few goblins, a house-elf, a werewolf, and the drunken brigade."

Ginny, Ron and Hermione stayed in the kitchen for some time. Ron and Hermione tried to get more explanations from Ginny, and she obliged them with some of the more minor questions. She didn't mention the Veil or anything about Harry that he hadn't told them himself. Something told her that he was still hiding something from all of them, but she decided to simply trust his judgment for now. Perhaps she could ask him later that night.

Sometime after the sun set, Harry walked back into the kitchen looking tired and a little confused. No one asked him any questions, and he didn't begin talking. Instead, he sat down and ate some of the food they had prepared. When he was finished, he pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair.

"I forgot to thank you for something," Ron said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Really? What would that be?"

"I got my wish," Ron replied with a smile. "We didn't lose our last match."

Harry returned the smile. "No, you didn't. Of course, it wasn't anything to be proud of either. Now, if you could play every match like you did against Dunham, you would have had a shot at the national team."

"How do you know about the Dunham match?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I've watched all of your matches," Harry revealed. A mischievous grin spread across his face. "For that match, I was Dunham's reserve Beater. Their real Beater was unconscious in some inn in Ireland. He thinks he was there." Ginny saw a familiar light in Harry's eyes that made her smile for the first time in days.

"It was almost a disaster," Harry added. "If the match would have lasted any longer, one of Dunham's Beaters was going to fall off his broom and I would have been forced to play."

"You were disguised as one of the players?" Ron laughed. "That's brilliant! And they never noticed?"

"Of course not," Harry said with a shake of his head. "But then, neither did you when you played the Tornados. I was your backup that match. Don't you remember? You told me I'd done a horrible job with my guards." Harry let out a short burst of laughs. "I had one of them on backwards, of all things. They're not at all like the ones I wore as a Seeker."

Ron burst out laughing, eventually earning some laughter from Ginny and Hermione as well. Ginny thought back to that match. That was the first time she'd met Henri D'Anneau. That had been the start of all of this. She looked up at Harry's face, and remembered seeing it at the match. The smile faded from his face as if he knew what she was thinking.

She was wrong. It hadn't started then. It had started long before; she simply hadn't been paying attention. It had started a year ago, when Harry had slipped off to simply watch her as she waited to get onto the Hogwarts Express. It had started because he wouldn't let her go. Somehow, that was a comforting thought.

"I think I need to try and get some sleep," Harry announced. "I can't remember the last time I slept in a bed." He stood up and began walking to the stairs.

Ginny mirrored him, saying, "I should get some rest, as well."

"Where are you going?" Ron called out to her.

Almost at the same time, Harry and Ginny stopped and turned. "I said I'm going to bed, Ron," Ginny answered.

"With him?" Ron blurted out. Hermione glared at him and hissed something under her breath.

"Yes, Ron," Ginny replied stiffly. "Harry and I are both going to sleep."

"We'll be going then," Hermione announced. "If you need to get a message to me, send Ron. Whoever is watching me will be used to seeing him."

"Actually, I'd feel a lot better if you two stayed here, tonight," Harry suggested. "There are plenty of rooms and Kreacher knows to keep away from us. I— If you're here I won't have to worry about you."

Instead of leaving, Ron and Hermione followed Harry and Ginny up the stairs to the first floor of bedrooms. Ginny completely ignored Ron's protests as she followed Harry into the same bedroom she'd been sleeping in for the last week. After closing the door, she had hoped to be able to speak with Harry, but he was already slipping into bed. She decided to let him sleep. There would be plenty of time to talk to him tomorrow.

* * *

Ginny awoke the next morning to a dim, dreary room. The curtains were open, but that only served to expose the room to the gloomy skies. Harry was sitting in the chair across the room, staring at the floor. 

"Did you sleep alright?" Ginny asked.

Harry's head jerked up. "Not as much as I had hoped," he answered.

"Are you alright?"

"I— I don't know," he said. "I think so. I think I could use a good month or two of rest."

"I think we all could."

Harry stood up and paced about impatiently for a few seconds. "I'll feel better once we can gather the Order again. Grigore is going to start a war, and right now, we're terribly outnumbered."

Ginny slid out of bed and padded toward him. "It'll be alright, Harry," she reassured him. "There's still plenty of time." She looked at a nearby clock and decided that she didn't have much more time before she needed to leave for the Ministry. Hermione was probably already awake and ready.

"I'm going to go get ready," she told him.

"I'll be here," he said vacantly.

Ginny gathered some clothes and walked off to get ready for the day. After a relaxing shower and a few minutes of brushing her hair she felt quite a bit better than she had for some time. She even smiled as she walked back to the bedroom. She, Ron, Hermione and Harry were reunited. Nothing felt impossible when they were together.

As she came to the corridor leading to the bedroom, she found Kreacher standing in the middle of the hallway, levitating a large, dusty painting of some severe-looking old warlock.

Ginny stopped only feet from the elf. "Kreacher, what are you doing?"

He stopped what he was doing, and scowled at her. "Kreacher is decorating," he sneered.

"Did Harry tell you to put that up?"

"If Master does not want it up, let him tell Kreacher himself," he replied, "—not through some filthy blood-traitor."

"Fine," Ginny huffed as she walked past Kreacher. As she got closer to the bedroom, she realized that Kreacher had put up a dozen paintings already. Almost all of them were portraits of Sirius's ancestors and not the kind of things that Harry would have allowed.

* * *

Harry had been pacing about the room, trying to figure out just what he needed to do next. Grigore must have some other plan. When Harry had first met him, he never did anything without at least one backup plan. 

Ginny burst through the door, looking a little annoyed. "Harry, did you know that Kreacher has been putting up all the old Black family portraits?"

Harry didn't respond, and instead strode out the door and into the corridor. Just as she'd said, he found Kreacher affixing a painting of one of Sirius's great-grandfathers to the wall between two broken mirrors. Surrounding it were other painting, many of which were much older, though all of them held the images of dour looking witches and wizards.

"Kreacher, take these paintings down," Harry commanded gently.

Kreacher rolled his eyes. "Must Kreacher? Does it truly matter to the Master?"

"It does," Harry said firmly. "Take them down, Kreacher."

Kreacher looked from Ginny then back to Harry. "Kreacher will take them down after the Master has some breakfast. Perhaps his empty stomach has given him his sour mood."

"Kreacher—"

"Oi! Harry!" Ron called up the stairs. "You'll want to take a look at this!"

Harry sighed and glared at Kreacher. "Take them down _now_, Kreacher," he ordered, then turned and walked down the stairs to see what Ron was talking about.

When Harry walked into the kitchen he found Ron and Hermione dressed and seated at the kitchen table. They had made a large breakfast, including a steaming pot of tea which looked rather inviting. At the moment, however, they were both leaning over a piece of folded parchment. "What is that?" he asked.

"It's the _Prophet_," Ron replied. "There's a story about what happened yesterday. Take a look, Harry. It says we're dead." Harry frowned and walked toward the table.

"I was dead once," Ginny commented from somewhere behind him. "It wasn't so bad."

Ron looked up long enough to smile, but Hermione was less amused. "It's not funny, Ginny," she scolded her. "Twenty-eight people died yesterday—"

"—Make that Twenty-seven," Ron corrected. "I think I'll pull through. You and Ginny are looking pretty strong, too, so maybe only twenty-five." Hermione frowned at him, but he was undeterred. "I guess this is what it feels like to be Harry."

"It gets old faster than you'd think," Harry remarked.

"Are you two done?" Hermione asked in a patronizing voice. "If you'd be reading instead of cracking jokes you'd see that this is more serious than we'd thought."

Harry leaned over the parchment and began reading. A second later, he felt a small arm reach around his waist and a saw curtain of red hair swaying next to him. He began reading but found most of it to be rather boring. It was the sort of article he'd gotten all too used to reading. He'd seen plenty of them during his time with the Brotherhood in Romania. He'd played a part in some of them. And now he began to wonder how many of the others were the work of his former colleagues. As he skimmed this article, his eyes stopped on something interesting.

_This attack appears to be the work of a sect of Transylvanian wizards who have been conducting attacks against the Romanian Minister Grigore Tarus, who was in attendance at the match. Ministry officials believe that Tarus was the target of the attack, though he escaped without injury._

_Luckily, a number of Aurors were also in attendance, under the direct command of Auguste Reynard. Reynard told the Daily Prophet that he was searching for another Ministry employee, Ginny Weasley, daughter of Arthur Weasley. He refused to comment on just why they had been searching, but survivors of the attack reported that Aurors had claimed Miss Weasley was dangerous and not to be confronted._

_Unnamed sources at the Department of International Magical Cooperation told our reporters that in the two short months that Miss Weasley has visited Romania numerous times, and has been seen speaking with strange wizards on a number of occasions. She was spotted fleeing yesterday's attack with an unknown accomplice._

_The most recent attacks bear a striking resemblance to a string of attacks which occurred in Giza during the World Cup Site Selection Conference at the end of August. In both cases, the target of the attack was Grigore Tarus. Both attacks are linked to Mr. Tarus's appreciation of Quidditch. Miss Weasley was seen fleeing the scenes of both attacks._

_Aurors reported seeing her near the gate seconds before the area was ripped apart in a huge explosion. After hours of searching, the Ministry is reporting her name among the dead. No decision has been made about pursuing an investigation into her involvement with yesterday's events._

Harry could see Ginny's mouth moving, but no sound was coming out. The article continued on for a while, including some quotations from Scrimgeour about some increased security measures for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup Tournament. Ginny had already stopped reading. She flopped down in a nearby chair.

"They made it sound like it was all my fault," Ginny said darkly. She looked up at Harry with narrowed eyes. "It was Tarus, wasn't it?" she asked. "He did this. He's trying to keep me from talking to anyone."

"He's trying to keep all of us from talking to anyone," Harry corrected. "No one would believe that Ron or Hermione had any part in it. So he made sure everyone thinks they're dead. If they show up anywhere, he'll hear about it. And if he can kill them before then, then no one will ever ask any questions."

Harry paused for a moment. Kreacher had appeared suddenly, carrying a dusty old grandfather clock Harry had never seen before. As he shuffled across the kitchen, he stopped to look at the four of them, then let out a series of grunts which Harry assumed to be the sound of him laughing.

"Where did you get that, Kreacher?" he called out.

"Ah, the cellar!" Kreacher replied excitedly. "The secret cellar. Under the second sub-basement."

"Well, put it back!" Harry shouted, then thought better of it. "On second thought, toss it out with the rubbish, along with whatever else you've squirreled away down there!"

"Master is very wise," Kreacher called out from the stairs. "Kreacher does as master commands! Just as soon as he finishes with nice portraits!"

Harry shook his head. "He's mental. He must have heard the news that we were all dead. Let him be happy. It's easier to hide when no one is looking for you. Thanks to this—" Harry said as he picked up the copy of the _Prophet_, "—we only have to disguise ourselves. No one searches for the dead." As the parchment hit the table, it folded over, revealing the name of the intended recipient: _Harry Potter_.

"Ron," he said in a controlled voice, "where did you get that copy of the _Prophet_?"

Ron returned a confused look. "An owl. It got delivered just a few minutes ago." Harry backed away from the table and drew out his wand.

Hermione was standing up, now. She must have sensed the change in Harry's behavior. "What is it, Harry?"

"No one knows that I come here," Harry replied. "I don't have the _Prophet_ delivered here. Normal owls can't even find me. And only Hedwig and Pig can find anyone in here. The house is charmed to hide us."

"You sure about that?" Ron asked. "This one didn't seem to have any problems."

"What you saw probably wasn't an owl at all," Harry replied. "It was probably an Animagus. It didn't come into the house, did it?" he asked. "It just sat on the ledge and made you take the _Prophet_." Ron nodded silently.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked.

"We're changing our plans," Harry announced. "We need to go. We need to leave _right now_."

"I thought you said we'd be safe here?" Ron replied.

"We should have been," Harry replied tensely. He was trying to keep his anger under control. "Somehow Grigore found out about this place. Someone must have told someone about it."

"The Order knows, but no one else," Ginny said. "Well, Charlie would have known, but if he told anyone in the Brotherhood, they've never acted on it. I've been coming here to hide for months."

"I haven't told a soul, Harry," Ron added. "No one even talks to me about you or Ginny."

"I haven't told anyone either," Hermione reassured him. "At the very worst, Reynard may know that Ginny comes here, but he'd never help the Brotherhood."

"That's spiffing," Harry growled, "but it doesn't explain how a _Daily Prophet_ with my name on it showed up on that window."

"You think someone knows you're here?" Hermione asked.

Harry snatched the publication from the table and brandished it at her. "I think that's pretty convincing evidence, Hermione. There aren't many people who know I'm not dead, and the only ones who like me are standing in this room."

"What do you think it means?"

"I think it means the Brotherhood is coming to improve the accuracy of that article, and there's no time to debate it. Grab a cloak and follow me. We have to go, now."

Harry ripped three cloaks from their hangers and tossed them toward the table. He slipped one over his shoulders and bundled the remaining two together. As Ron, Hermione and Ginny slipped their cloaks on, Harry grabbed whatever he could from his cabinet and stuffed it into his pockets. When he was done, he strode out of the kitchen, hearing the others right behind him.

He walked quickly toward the front door, hoping that nothing waited for him on the other side. When he reached it, he stopped and waited for everyone to catch up to him. "Alright, we'll all have to Disapparate from the alley across the street. Ginny and I should be able to go directly to Gringott's at Diagon Alley. Hermione, you need to go to the Ministry and try to find some way to convince them that you and Ginny aren't dead or criminals. Ron, I need you to go to Hogwarts. Tell Lupin to start tracking down the other Order members. Don't tell him about me. Just have him gather the Order someplace —anywhere but here. Meet me at Gringott's Bank when you're done. The goblins will be expecting you, and they'll know to bring you to me."

As Harry turned to open the door, there was a soft _crack_ which made all four of them jump. In a fraction of a second, they all had leaped backward and trained their wand on the small shape blocking their path to the door.

"Harry Potter!" Dobby cried out. "Harry Potter _must__not_ go outside!" he pleaded.

"Dobby!" Harry shouted in anger and relief. "What are you doing here? How did you know—"

"Mister Lupin sent Dobby to look for Harry's new Wheezy. He said Dobby could find her here, but Dobby finds much more than that!"

"I missed you, too, Dobby, and there's something I need you to do, but I don't have the time right now." Harry reached for the doorknob. Before he could turn it, Dobby had leaped up, wrapped himself around Harry's arm and started peeling his fingers back.

"Harry Potter must not! There are horrible wizards outside."

Harry let go of the door, and shook Dobby off his arm. "We can't stay here, Dobby," he shouted. "Grigore is a powerful wizard. He'll rip this place apart in an hour. We need to escape." Harry reached for the doorknob again.

"No!" cried Dobby. "Wait! Dobby will get help! Kind Lupin will help!"

"No, Dobby. I forbid you to tell anyone about me!" he said sternly. "Now, we have to go." Ignoring the doorknob, Harry pointed his wand at the door, and it flew open, revealing the dreary weather outside. Dobby let out a pained squeak and jumped behind Harry.

Standing in the center of the street was an old wizard in a long grey robe. On either side of him was a half circle of twenty or more wizards dressed in similar robes with hoods pulled up over their heads. Their wands were drawn, but pointed at the ground. Strewn about the street was a number of wet bodies. Harry hoped they were only stunned. The Brotherhood must have been waiting for some time.

"Harry, some of the— the bodies," whispered Hermione. "They're Obliviators."

"Good morning, Harry!" the old wizard in the center called out. "I had hoped that you would come out soon. I'm afraid we were starting to gather quite an audience."

"Did you kill them, Grigore?" Harry shouted back.

"Harry, I'm offended," he replied. "I receive no pleasure from killing."

"Maybe not, but it doesn't stop you from doing it. What would it matter? You're here to kill them," Harry shouted, pointing back at Ron, Hermione and Ginny. "Is killing twenty so much worse than killing three?"

"A wise question," Grigore replied, "but not the wisest. Tell me, Harry, is killing twenty thousand so much worse than killing three? Can we not at least agree that the annihilation of an entire culture is a greater act of evil than taking three innocent lives?"

"That's not the point, Grigore," Harry returned. "After all the people you've killed, do you think that killing three more is going to convince anyone that you're right? Do you think that killing them will keep the others from seeing the truth?"

"I'm not here to kill your friends, Harry," Grigore replied. "I am here to save them. If you are so certain that I am mistaken, come back to Romania with me and show me that I am wrong. I will see that your friends are safe."

"No. I know what your idea of discussion is, and I've seen how safe you keep the wizards you protect."

Grigore took a step forward and clasped his hands. "There's no more time for this, Harry. Your friends are in danger. You can't protect them, and you can't gather your allies fast enough to help you. Only we can protect them. Give me the wand and I can promise you that they will not be harmed."

"The wand? Why do you want it now?"

"I have never wanted it. You know that. But the Death Eaters do. We are not your enemy; they are. It won't be long before they find this place. When they come, they will not waste time talking. They will destroy the house and everything in it. They'll do anything to get the wand, but they won't negotiate with you. If you give the wand to me, I can bargain with them. I can see that they never get it, and never attack your friends."

"If you really wanted to help them, you could destroy them all."

"Yes, we could," Grigore agreed, "but that would only perpetuate the problem I am trying to fix. It would only unbalance the world even more."

"I won't go with you," Harry said stubbornly.

"And what about Ginny?" Grigore called out. "They are hunting her now, as well. Will you force her to join you in your never-ending escape? For a year you protected her from that, and now you'd throw that all away, and put yourself and the wand so close to her that—"

Grigore paused suddenly. Harry was caught off guard, and glanced around, looking for some cause. Grigore stood completely still for a few seconds, then slowly started walking back away from Harry.

"Ginny has been using this house as her own for months now," Grigore remarked. "Even at your most foolish you would never have put a thing so dangerous as Voldemort's wand so close to her. Just as you have not put it close to her now."

Harry felt short of breath. He didn't know what was about to happen, but he knew it wasn't going to be good. "Get ready," he whispered, trying not to move his mouth.

"You don't have the wand here," Grigore announced. "You're risking her life. If you die, they will hunt her as long as she lives. Please, Harry, I beg you. Come with us. I do not mean to kill you."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we will force you to come with us."

Harry began walking forward, and saw the other Brotherhood wizards tensing their arms and tightening their grips on their wands. "You know that I could stop you, Grigore," Harry said in a threatening tone. "That's what you're afraid of, isn't it?"

"It is not fear for my own safety, but for the safety of wizards everywhere," Grigore replied. "Yes, Harry, I do believe you could stop us. Will you do it? Will you prove to everyone that I was correct about you?"

"I won't play your games," Harry said as he began walking faster. "I'm going to leave, and I'm taking Ginny, Hermione and Ron with me. If you try to stop me, I will have to defend myself."

Ignoring every nerve in his body, Harry walked forward, hoping that Ron, Hermione and Ginny would follow him. He kept trying to convince himself that Grigore was too afraid of him to risk a real confrontation again.

As he neared Grigore, the other wizards began to close in around them. Harry knew that he had put himself in the worst possible position, but there didn't seem to be any other choice. At the same time, Grigore had no choice but to try and stop him, and because of that, Harry still had some hope.

When he was less than ten feet from Grigore Tarus, something finally happened. A pair of wizards jumped out from Harry's left side, and tried to grab Ginny and push her to the ground. She sidestepped the first, and Ron hit the second with some curse that dropped him to the ground. When Harry turned back to face Grigore, he found a wand pointed directly at his face.

"Do not make me do this, Harry," Grigore said in a shaky voice. "It does not have to end this—"

With a faint _pop_, Dobby materialized between Grigore and Harry. "You will not hurt Harry Potter!" he cried. He splayed his fingers and pushed his arms out. An instant later, Grigore was flying backward onto the street. With another fluid movement of his arms, a pair of invisible waves struck the other wizards, tossing them backward as well.

As the Brotherhood wizards struggled to find their wands and reorient themselves, Harry saw his chance for escape. "Thanks, Dobby!" he shouted as he ran forward and jumped over a groaning Grigore Tarus. He heard a triumphant squeal from the house elf as Hermione, Ron and Ginny followed him toward the alley.

A curse zipped past Harry's shoulder, scorching the bricks of the nearby building. He instinctively turned, and aimed his wand in the direction of the attack. There was no need. With a squeak and a wave of his hand, Dobby flipped the wizard into the air and dropped him to the ground. A second later, the street echoed with the surprised shout of another airborne wizard. Dobby's laughs were mixed with a pair of pained cries as two more wizards hit the street.

One of the wizards called out a warning. They knew Harry had reached the alleyway. Above the shouting and scuffling of boots on pavement, a new voice rang out.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Harry heard the dreaded sound of a gale rushing toward him. He ducked and spun around. He heard Ginny scream, and dove toward her, grabbing her and pulling her to the ground. Together, they slammed into the damp pavement, sending familiar jolts of pain through Harry's body as the world around him flashed a sickly green.

When the light faded, Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was alive, and he could feel Ginny's heart pounding in her chest. He rolled over and cast a quick Shield Charm, knowing it couldn't stop the Killing Curse, but not knowing anything else to do.

Hermione and Ron were still alive, too. They were flattened against the far wall of the alley. He didn't feel like trying their luck again. "Go!" he shouted. "You know where to find me!"

"_Harry, stop!_" shouted Grigore. Harry turned to face the old wizard, and found Dobby lying on the street with his face locked in a surprised expression -- Author: as he stared into the overcast sky. Grigore was standing only feet away, with his wand pointed directly at Harry.

"Go," Harry growled to his friends. "Leave while you can." Harry heard a pair of _cracks_ as Ron and Hermione Disapparated. Ginny, however, remained on the street. "Ginny... Find Hedwig. You know where to go." Ginny didn't respond. She was staring at Dobby and crying silently. Harry stood up and nudged her with his foot. "Go on, Ginny. I'll be along shortly."

"I'll go with you," she replied firmly.

"Do not be foolish, Ginevra," Grigore warned her. "Do as he says. I have no desire to hurt you, but I will kill you if that is what it takes to accomplish my task."

"No," Harry said firmly. "No more. I'm tired of running from you Grigore. I'm tired of you threatening the lives of my friends and innocent wizards." He could feel a venomous rage building in his stomach, and he thought he could almost feel his wand crackling with energy.

A smile broke across Grigore's face. "Yes, Harry. Can't you feel it?" he asked in a silky voice. "The power welling up inside you? All your desires for vengeance and justice churning in your blood and giving you only the overwhelming craving for _destruction_? Is that what you're feeling now?"

"No," Harry answered defiantly. He watched as the rest of the Brotherhood wizards walked forward to reform a semicircle around him. He glared at them, but kept his wand on Grigore. "All I ever wanted was to live a normal life. Voldemort stole that from me. Now you're doing the same thing. If I have to kill you to end this, I swear I will."

"Then do it!" Grigore shouted. "Show me your righteous power! Demonstrate the potency of your wrath! Scourge me from this world! Prove me wrong by rending the ground and letting it swallow me whole. And when you are done, you will discover the truth. Another will take my place. And then another. And another, until your rage is great enough to swallow the whole world. And then it will."

"You're wrong!" Harry shouted. His vision was beginning to blur, though he couldn't tell if it was tears or the heat of his anger radiating from his skill. Harry gripped his wand tightly, and through a jaw clenched tightly with the effort of restraining his emotions, he commanded the wizards around him: "Stay— away— from me..."

* * *

From the pavement, Ginny watched Harry and Tarus. The rest of the Brotherhood wizards were slowly inching toward him like wolves waiting for a moment of weakness to press their attack. As they talked, Harry's breathing became more and more labored, and his face colored with controlled fury. His eyes narrowed and became bloodshot, making the green color of his eyes appear almost as if it were glowing. 

She didn't know what to do. Harry told her to leave, but she was frightened about what would happen if she did, so she remained on the pavement, afraid to make any move that might distract Harry or provoke the Brotherhood wizards.

However, it didn't take long before she knew that the confrontation was not going to end well. Harry couldn't fight them all off, could he? As Harry raised his wand, she felt herself shaking with fear. Harry's mouth began moving, but his voice was dry and raspy. Ginny looked to Tarus, afraid he might have already cast some curse, but she found that Tarus wasn't looking at Harry at all. He was staring at the ground.

Ginny felt another shudder and realized that she had not been shaking at all. It was the pavement underneath her. Something horrible was about to happen. They needed to leave —immediately. In one fluid movement, she dove toward Harry, grabbed his leg, and concentrated on the lavish lobby where she had met Grimbok.

She felt the world around her disappear and be replaced by the choking cold of nothingness. A second later, she felt warm marble against her stomach. Harry stumbled, and pulled his leg free from her grasp. He took a few steps forward, then collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the marble floor, waking Ginny from the shock of her new surroundings. She twisted onto her back, and quickly pushed herself away from the approaching footsteps and up into a sitting position.

"Ah! Welcome again, Miss Weasley," Grimbok greeted her with a grotesque smile. "And good day to you, Mister Potter. Will you be making another deposit?"

* * *

**Authors's Notes**

Yes, I know. I killed Dobby. It had to be done. I swear.

The story is going to be getting a little darker now. We're only six chapters from the end now. Or rather: We're only six chapters from the sequel.

I've got a beta again, so chapter's should be coming along a little faster. Sorry for the delay. I've already sent Chapter 19 out for beta, so you should see that shortly.


	19. The Second Betrayal

**Chapter 19**

**The Second Betrayal**

* * *

Ginny looked at the small clock hanging on the wall. It was half-past nine o' clock. She was late for work. Of course, she hadn't shown up at all yesterday, and based on the current belief that she was both a criminal and a corpse, she was pretty certain that she didn't really work for the Ministry any more.

She'd been taken to what seemed to be a small flat in upper floors of the bank. Harry had left her there while he spoke to the goblins. Shortly after he left, a disgruntled goblin had delivered a variety of breakfast foods to her. She sensed something odd about the service, and pressed the goblin for more information. After a painful series of questions, the goblin told her that Harry had paid Gringott's a hundred Galleons to have a goblin serve the food instead of the house-elves.

She thought she could have found a much better use of a hundred Galleons. He'd been born wealthy, and he said he'd recently come into even more gold. Perhaps he had enough gold that he could just toss bags of it around for frivolous reasons, but that didn't make it right.

She paced around the large central room, thinking of how she would bring this up to Harry. When that became too boring, she began trying to think of what she might say to Harrington to make him believe that she had no part in the attacks. She hadn't decided if she really wanted her job back, but it was better than thinking about what she'd seen that morning.

Before she had a chance to start thinking about how many days of clothes she still had at the Burrow, Harry returned. His presence alone was enough to make her throat constrict. The look on his face confirmed the conclusion her mind had been trying not to accept. They were in another war, and this one was happening much faster than the last one.

"How are you doing?" he asked gently. "I see you ate a little. You might want to eat some more. The next few days... Well, we might not always have time for good meals."

"I will," Ginny reassured him. She tried to give him her sternest look. "I was glad to have the food, but Harry, you shouldn't have paid that goblin to bring the food. One hundred Galleons? I would rather you give that to my parents and let me deal with the sight of a house elf or two." She prepared herself for an argument. Some part of her _wanted_ an argument. At least she would be able to fight back. All she had been able to do until then was run from the things that confused and frightened her.

Harry didn't cooperate. Instead he gave her a piteous look. "The last thing you need to worry about is gold. The hundred Galleons came from Grigore's vaults. I stole the keys to a couple the day I escaped. I feel there is some degree of justice in the fact that I have been using his own gold to fight him. As for your family, I've already been helping them in ways they haven't even noticed. I'm sure we can both think up wonderful uses for the leftover gold when this is all over, but for now, we should focus on what needs to be done to end it, and worry about gold later."

Ginny nodded. Harry was right, of course.

"I know this morning was hard," he said, "but we've got some hard days still ahead of us. Things have changed."

Ginny stared at him, unsure of just what _hadn't_ changed recently.

"I've been talking to the goblins. They've agreed to do something rather drastic in order to buy us some time. It cost me a fortune, but― Well, actually it cost Grigore a fortune, so I don't give a damn. With luck, Hermione will be allowed back into the Department of Mysteries, and Ron is talking to Lupin right now. Do you feel up to running a few errands for me?"

"Of course," she answered immediately. "Whatever it takes."

Harry nodded. "First, I want you to go visit your brothers. They will―"

"How do I avoid being seen?" Ginny interrupted.

"You don't," Harry replied simply. "That's one of the reasons you're doing it. We need people to realize that you're no longer dead. If you're alive, the Brotherhood can't take you away, and the Ministry will have to restrain itself. They can't toss the Liaison to Romania in Azkaban."

"You're forgetting that they all think I'm part of the plot to murder the Romanian Minister," Ginny reminded him.

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "No one really believes the _Prophet_, and if they do, it'll mean that everyone will stay out of your way. Now, once you're at the shop, Fred and George may not be in very good moods, but hopefully they'll cheer up when they see you. I need you to check and see when they could get you a Shield Cloak," he said, adding, "Just one, mind you. If they say they're busy, it's just fine. I sent the goblins to buy as many as they could at a price that is even more obscene than the usual price I get them at. I need to know how many Fred and George will be able to get for them. While you're there, tell them they should get in touch with Lupin and gather the Order. It's not that I don't trust Ron, but I can't risk having him turned away by Filch or any of the Aurors."

"Alright," Ginny said with a nod, "but they're going to want to know why."

"They'll ask, but you've got to keep quiet. Tell them they should do it in the next few days, but don't make it sound urgent. Tell them to try and keep it as quiet as possible. That should slow them down. Don't tell them about anything that happened."

"Why not? Don't we want their help?"

"Not yet," Harry replied. "Next, you said that your friend at the _Leaky Cauldron_ is a pretty regular customer. Do you think he would be there now?"

"I don't really know," she answered. "I've never really seen a time when he's _not_ there. It's possible that he actually lives there. If he's not there now, maybe Tom will know where to find him."

"Alright, then go and talk to him. Ask him how long it would take him to organize his friends. If he can't do it within a week or so, tell him to forget about it."

"And if he can?" she prompted. "What should I tell him they are going to be doing?"

"If he'll do it, then he should come to Gringott's tonight at ten o' clock. You'll have to meet him, obviously. If he asks what he'll be doing, tell him that we only need him to provide a distraction, but in doing that, he might have to attack Aurors, Death Eaters, and Brotherhood wizards. I won't fault him if he isn't willing to do that."

"And after that?"

"After that, I need you to go to the Ministry. Harrington will know you're alive by then, and things are going to be a lot simpler if you talk to him today instead of tomorrow. I don't know what's going to happen, but it's vital that you keep your job there. Just make sure that you leave before sundown."

"Is there some reason why?"

"Of course," Harry answered, "and I'll tell you just as soon as you make it back here."

Ginny nodded and re-tied her Shield Cloak. Harry was right. It was going to be a hard day.

* * *

"Er, Fred? George?" Lee Jordan called out. "Can, er... Can one of you spare a moment?" 

The shop looked fairly busy for the hour, but Fred and George were nowhere to be seen. Instead, Lee had taken position behind the counter and looked rather harassed. A few of the other customers recognized Ginny, and their reaction was enough to convince the others to keep their distance.

"Lee!" came an answering shout. "How many times do we have to tell you that we're busy?" Ginny recognized the voice, but didn't know if it had been Fred or George.

"I think this might be an exception," Lee hollered back.

"I swear, if this is some sort of trick, I'll hex your jaw shut for a week!"

Lee walked a little closer to the door so he didn't have to speak quite as loud. "I don't know if it's a trick, but you better come see it."

"If one of us has to come out there, it better be because someone is either dead or stunningly beautiful."

Lee stared at Ginny for a moment, then called back, "From what I've heard, it's actually a little bit of both."

Ginny heard a frustrated groan from the other side of the door and seconds later, the door squealed open. Fred and George peered through the narrow opening, and found Ginny almost immediately.

"Oh, it's you," George said flatly. Fred looked equally unsurprised. "We wondered if you'd be popping in today," he added. "What can we do for you? We've got a busy day ahead of us, but we've always got time for our sister the assassin."

"You're looking amazing for not being alive, by the way," George chimed in.

Ginny looked about, wishing she could talk to them privately. "I, er―" she stammered, "I was wondering how long I would have to wait for a Shield Cloak."

Fred and George exchanged suspicious looks, then glared at Ginny. "You want a Shield Cloak? Today?"

"Well, it doesn't _have_ to be today," she tried to say. "I was just hoping that―"

"Enough," interrupted Fred. "Come back here. We'll take your order."

Ginny quickly slipped through the doorway, feeling relieved to escape the stares and whispered comments of the other customers. Fred and George immediately walked over to the large table in the center of the room. On either end of the table was a pile of darkly colored fabric. It took only a second to recognize them as cloaks.

Fred and George leaned against the table, facing Ginny and looking rather serious. "Mum and Dad are well shot of all this dying you've been doing. I think Mum would chain you up in the attic if she knew where you were."

"You already knew I wasn't dead?" Ginny asked.

"We had a healthy level of suspicion," Fred replied. "We got an owl from Lupin this morning. He'd read the _Prophet_, and shared our concerns over the number of corrections they've been publishing lately. He figured the three of you had escaped and were simply hiding from whoever was responsible. He sent Dobby out to look for you. Said he thought he knew just where to find you, and hoped that Ron and Hermione would be with you. When Dobby didn't return immediately, we took it as a good sign."

Ginny felt her throat tighten. "Did you― did _anyone_ mention... the old headquarters to anyone who didn't know about it yet?"

"No," George replied. "We didn't even talk about it. We just read the note from Lupin. He seemed deadly serious about it. That's why he sent Dobby. He didn't have time to find anyone else." Fred narrowed his eyes. "Why do you ask?" he questioned her. "Do you think someone else found out about it?"

"It's, er... I―" she stumbled, trying to think of just what to say. "We think so," she finally said. "We want you to talk with Lupin. Try to gather up the Order, but do it as quietly as you possibly can, and well... don't go to the old place. And, er... maybe you shouldn't try to contact me or Ron or Hermione. We'll come find you in a few days." Ginny stopped talking and waited for her brothers to respond.

After a few seconds of silence, George and Fred exchanged glances. "That's all?" George asked. "You came here to tell us to gather the Order? We're already doing that."

"Well... I guess then I just came to say that you should be quiet about it," she said, feeling slightly defensive.

"Have you gone to the Ministry yet?" Fred asked with a curious look. "Dad said that it's a little tense there. Do they know you're alive?"

"Not yet," she replied. "I'll go there soon enough. I just needed to give you that message and see about a new Shield Cloak."

"So you _do_ need Shield Cloaks?" George asked. Fred raised an eyebrow, adding, "How many, and how quickly do you need them?"

"Oh, well, just one, really," she answered, "and it doesn't really matter when I get it."

The twins shared another look, and frowned. "_It doesn't matter_," Fred repeated. "Now that's interesting, isn't it George?"

George nodded. "It is a bit odd," he agreed.

Fred pointed at a stack of cloaks and said, "See those? Those are for an order we got this morning. There are more cloaks there than we've sold in the past two months. And that includes the last few weeks. After the other attacks, we just haven't been able to keep them on the shelves. We actually had to buy Madam Malkin's entire stock of cloaks. Before this, we'd been making our own ―higher profits, of course― but at the prices we're selling these for, it just doesn't matter."

"And then, as if it weren't bad enough, a grim fellow from the Ministry came by about an hour ago asking if he could buy every cloak we had," George told her. "He was probably sent to restock the ones the Aurors went through at Chudley. Of course, he was only going to pay the normal price, so he walked away rather disappointed."

"And now you walk in, asking for the one thing everyone else in Britain wants," Fred added. "The only difference is that everyone else wants them this very moment, and you're happy to get yours whenever we have time."

"So, it will be a while then?" she asked. "A few days? A week?"

George sighed. "If we would tell you―"

"―which we're not―" Fred interjected.

"―that these cloaks were ordered by the goblins and they were going to be picked up _tonight_, would that change the day you would want yours?"

"Tonight?" Ginny replied. Why did Harry need them that quickly? Was he planning something for tonight? Was it possible? She tried to hide her surprise. "I, er... I guess not. It's not really all that important," she said dismissively.

Fred walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled a small leather briefcase from the shelf. "George?" he grunted with a nod toward the pile of cloaks behind him. George turned and pulled three of the cloaks off the pile and tossed them over to Fred, who quickly folded them into the briefcase. When he was done, he closed and clasped the suitcase and handed it to Ginny.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," she argued. "Keep them, really. If you're selling them for as much as you say, it would be a waste to give them to me. I don't need them, now."

"Of course you don't," George replied. "You and Ron and Hermione would never do anything dangerous without asking for help from your friends and family. Don't worry about us; we'll still make a killing on the rest of them. Maybe you should tell your friends at the Ministry that if they want any of these cloaks they're going to have to come up with more gold."

"Er, alright, I suppose I could do that," Ginny said. "I guess I should be going then." Ginny smiled, then turned and began walking for the door.

"Ginny, stop," Fred called out. When she looked back at him, he was rubbing his eyes. George was staring at the ceiling.

"Ginny, we need you to be completely honest with us," George began. "Something is going on. If we would be able to ignore our promise to the goblins―"

"―and the mountains of gold they're willing to give us―" Fred added.

"―Yes, and that," George agreed. "If we could ignore that, would you rather that we didn't give these to them?"

"Accidents happen," Fred commented. "If you'd like, we could be robbed over lunch or have some fire break out this afternoon."

Ginny tried to give them a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it. Sell the cloaks. It'll be fine. Just remember to give me a really expensive gift this Christmas."

* * *

Ginny had ignored the stares and whispers as she had walked down Diagon Alley. It wasn't until she reached the _Leaky Cauldron_ that the attention she was gathering began to worry her. As she neared the door, a group of wizards burst through the door and stood in the street, simply gazing at her as though she was a ghost. She forced herself to ignore them and walked into the pub. 

The _Leaky Cauldron_ was as empty as she'd ever seen it. Albert was not sitting in his usual spot at the bar, and a quick check of the main room showed no sign of him. Behind the bar, Tom was splitting his time between searching for something and staring at her in shock.

"I, er― I didn't expect you... this early," he stammered. "I think... there should be a _Prophet_ around here somewhere."

"Don't bother," Ginny replied. "I've already read it. It's all rubbish."

"It appears so," Tom snorted.

Ginny walked over to Tom, and sat down. She leaned forward, and spoke to him in a low voice. "I was hoping Albert would be here."

Tom frowned and walked closer to her. "Not yet," he replied with a shake of his head.

"Do you know where I could find him?" Ginny asked, trying to keep the urgency out of her voice. "I thought, well, that he might be living here, and that you might tell me which room he was in."

Tom grunted and frowned. "Well, he does stay here quite a bit, and for you, I'd even tell you which room was his, but it isn't a permanent thing. He'll take a room for a few days, drop of a bag of gold and disappear. He'll be back the next morning, but it might be another week before he asks for another room." Tom nodded to a pack of wizards who came in, and leaned closer to Ginny. "I'm afraid now is one of those times. I don't really know where you might find him."

"Do you have _any_ idea where he might be?" Ginny asked. "Does he have a house nearby or some family that he might live with?"

Tom shook his head. "He's never mentioned anything about a house. I guess I figured he just went about from one inn to another. If he's got a family, they don't live around here."

Ginny felt her frustration building. "How about the other wizards around here? Would any of them know where to find him?"

"I doubt it," Tom snorted. "I've spent more time with him than anyone else around here. He's only been coming here for a few months ―the end of May I think. He just walked in one day. Of course, you know how he is. He made quite a scene.

"Maybe they would have forgotten, but later that day, two blokes walked in, and before they made it ten feet inside the door, Albert was off his stool and shouting at them as if they were insulting him by simply being there. The two strangers started whispering in some other language ―Russian, by the sound of it― so Albert started shouting at them in Russian. That really got their attention and they bolted like ten-year-olds with stolen wands. Lads around here got quite a laugh from it. They started calling him 'Lord Albert' and he never said anything to stop them."

"So that's all anyone knows about him?" Ginny asked. "He's rich, eccentric, and speaks Russian?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How long do you think it will be before he comes in today?"

"I don't think I really know," Tom said, sounding apologetic. "Any other day and I'd tell you that he should already be here. Today... I just don't know."

"What's different about today?" she asked, fearing she already knew the answer. "Did something happen to him yesterday? At the Quidditch match?"

"No, not yesterday. The day before, I think. Albert was in here all day yesterday. Not that he could go anywhere."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, forgetting to lower her voice. "What happened two days ago?"

"No one really knows," Ton answered. "He didn't come in that day, but yesterday he dragged himself in here at sunrise. I'd barely finished cleaning the glasses from the previous night, and he limped in, carrying a half-empty bottle of whatever it is that he drinks."

"He was limping?"

"Limping doesn't seem to quite describe it," Tom chuckled. "He was barely walking. He looked like he'd gotten the nasty end of a Hungarian Horntail. There weren't that many bruises, but you could see the pain in his eyes. I asked him if he needed help getting to St. Mungo's and instead of answering, he asked if anyone had heard of any trouble in Romania." Tom snorted again, and shook his head. "I told him that he should forget about Romania. It looked like he'd found himself enough trouble already."

Ginny felt lightheaded. It had to be a coincidence. She dropped her head into her hands and tried to think. "Did he say what had happened to him?" she asked weakly. "Did he say where he'd been?"

"No," Tom replied, "he didn't want to talk to anyone about it. Why don't you give it a go?"

Ginny's head snapped up, and she found Tom smiling and pointing toward the door leading to the London streets. Standing in the open doorway and bracing himself against the frame was Albert. He was frozen, staring at Ginny, though for once, his eyes weren't filled with happiness or mirth, but paralyzing fear.

"Well, come on in, Albert!" Tom shouted. "I figured you'd be happy to see her still in one piece."

"Yeah, hobble on in here, Lord Albert!" another patron shouted. "Now that you've got your little friend, maybe you'll tell us about the monster that made you walk funny!"

Albert's eyes stared at Ginny for a moment. As he took his first faltering step forward, Ginny's eyes fell to his right leg. He was limping on it, just as Tom had said. In her mind, Ginny could still hear the nauseating crack of bone before the witch who'd been posing as Hermione screamed and collapsed onto the floor of the Romanian shop. Ginny remembered the curse clearly. She had hit the same leg Albert was limping on and she saw the same look in Albert's eyes now as she had in the eyes of the impostor. She didn't even realize how tightly her jaw was clenched until she felt the pain cutting into her teeth.

Albert winced with each step, but he never took his eyes off Ginny. There was a pained expression of recognition behind them. He must have known that he wouldn't be able to run, and yet the courage he showed at facing her only angered her more.

Ginny turned away from him and stared at the bar instead. It had been him. The one person she had counted as a friend ―the one person she had relied upon― had been using her as a way to get to Harry, just like everyone else.

Albert lumbered toward her and fell into a stool next to her. He wasn't looking at her anymore. Instead he was staring at his own robes. Slowly, he reached into one of his pockets, and pulled out the long bottle he always carried with him. With the other hand, he placed a glass on the bar. Ginny watched in silence as he filled it and quickly drank it.

Ginny felt her muscles twitch as he reached back into his pocket. She carefully reached for her wand. He'd attacked Harry. He had tried to stop them from escaping. He probably came here looking for her. She watched tensely as he pulled his hand out of his pocket and revealed a second glass. He sat it on the bar and turned toward her, but kept his eyes down.

"It's been a rough day," he said in a low voice. "Care for something to sharpen your wits?"

"No," Ginny practically spat. "I don't want anything from you."

"It wasn't what you think," he said. "I was trying to keep you safe. I only told him because I thought we could end this without any more fighting. I didn't know Grigore was going to do that."

"You can't expect me to believe that!" Ginny hissed. "You were the one who attacked us."

"I wasn't even there," Albert argued. "How could I be? I can barely walk!"

A nauseating wave of realization hit Ginny. It had been her fault that the Brotherhood found them that morning. Somehow, Albert must have worked out where she'd been going. He had been the one to tell the Brotherhood. Was that where Albert got all of his gold? How long had he been working with Tarus?

Ginny turned to stare at him as if she might read the answer on his face. He had been her friend. She had trusted him, and he had sold her to the Brotherhood. Dobby died trying to help them escape. Which one of them would be next? Ginny felt a white hot fury building in her chest.

Without any warning, she slipped off her stool and slipped her hand into the pocket where she kept her wand. With two quick steps she closed the distance between her and Albert before he could even take his hand from his bottle.

She jabbed her wand into his ribs and growled, "If you try anything, I swear I'll shatter every last bone in your body."

Albert didn't say a word in response. He simply nodded stiffly and poured himself another drink. A few of the other wizards around the pub had taken notice of her move, but she ignored them and waited for them to go back to their own conversations. While she waited, Albert emptied another glass. His calm demeanor only served to fuel her anger. He knew what he'd done. He knew that Ginny was aware of it now, and yet he sat there, drinking, just like any other day.

When she was certain no one was paying any attention to her, Ginny leaned closer to Albert. "We're going to talk," she whispered, "but not here. Somewhere private."

Albert nodded again, and raised his hand to signal Tom. The barman sauntered back over to him, and gave him a questioning look. "Is there something I can get the two of you?"

"A room," Albert replied.

This made Tom look even more confused. "You want a room? I― Well, I suppose it's not my place to judge but―"

"It's not like that," Albert interrupted. "We have some business to attend to. We need the most privacy you can give us. As always, I am not concerned about cost."

Tom frowned, then looked at Ginny as if checking to see if she was alright with it. She gave him a restrained nod. With a grunt and a shrug, Tom reached under the bar, and brought up a long silver key a few seconds later.

"I suppose that means you'll want the attic suite. I reckon it's the best room I've got for sharing secrets. You remember which one it is, don't you?" Tom asked Albert. "The one at the top of the stairs?"

"We'll take it," Albert snapped. He reached into his robes, hesitating for an instant as Ginny pressed the tip of her wand into his side, reminding him of her threat. He pulled out a bag of gold and tossed it onto the bar, spilling a few large disks of gold. They weren't Galleons, but it was obvious that they were quite valuable. Tom and several of the other patrons stared at the bag, but when they turned to look at Albert, he was already getting up.

Ginny walked right at his side, making it look as though she were helping him walk, though he was walking as poorly as he had when he'd walked into the pub. When they reached the stairs, Ginny shot a withering glare at him. If he was going to try anything, that would be his best chance. She was forced to hide her wand and follow him up the stairs. They reached the top and slowly began climbing a second flight.

They reached the top of the second flight of stairs and found a large door made of dark, polished wood. Albert unlocked the door and walked in as though it had been the front door to his own house. Once inside, he turned around and faced Ginny, looking far too unabashed for Ginny's taste. She slammed the door and strode toward him.

Before she could reach him, he had already pulled out a glass and was pouring himself yet another drink. "I understand that you're upset, Ginny," he began saying, "but this is more complex than it seems. We have a lot to talk about. Are you certain you wouldn't like something to drink?"

Ginny snarled and closed the distance between them in a second. With a wild shout, she took a hold of the bottle with both hands and slammed her shoulder into his stomach. She heard a pained grunt, and he fell backward into a large chair. As he fell, Ginny wrenched the bottle from his hands. Whirling about, Ginny launched the bottle at a nearby wall. It shattered, showering the wall and floor with fuming liquid. Albert coughed a couple times, then caught his breath and stared at the wall mournfully. When he looked back at Ginny, her wand was out and pointed directly at his chest.

"Give me your wand," she demanded, holding out her free hand.

Albert stared back at her passively. "Harry incinerated it, don't you remember?"

"Quite clearly, thank you," Ginny replied. "However, I think you came back here hoping to find me. I don't know what you were planning to use as an explanation, but you must have considered the possibility that I would realize the truth. You didn't have come here without a way to defend yourself."

Albert nodded slightly, then slowly raised his arms out in front of him. Carefully, one of them bent to reach toward an inside pocket in his robes. With the same smooth motion, he pulled out a long, polished wand.

"I presume this is what you meant," Albert said as he handed the wand to her. "To call it a wand, however, is an insult to every other wand I've used. This is barely more than a piece of wood. It has as many unicorn hairs in its core as I've got on my head."

"I don't really care. I'm not planning on selling it," Ginny replied sharply. With her wand still trained on Albert, she walked to a nearby table and pressed the tip of his wand against the surface until it splintered and snapped in two. Ginny tossed the broken pieces back to Albert.

He frowned at the remains, and gingerly pulled a long white strand from one of the pieces. "It's not unicorn hair," he said flatly. "It's more likely to be from the beard of some cross-eyed goat." He tossed it to the floor and shrugged. "At least I'll be able to go to Ollivander to get a real wand now."

Ginny's anger blazed. "How did you find out about the house on Grimmauld Place?" she asked. "Was it a Tracking Charm? Or have you been helping the Death Eaters as well?"

"You told me," he said simply. "The night I had to chase Henri out of here. I didn't pay any attention to it at the time, but I have a good memory and five minutes in Knockturn Alley turned up plenty of people who knew just what the 'Black House' was."

"You betrayed me!" she shouted.

"I have not betrayed you, only your trust," Albert professed. "I only did what I have been doing from the moment you left Hogwarts. I protected you. I sheltered you from all the dangers surrounding you. You came to me, with that talisman. Wizards have died for _seeing_ one, and you brought one to a pub to show it off? If I hadn't talked to the Brotherhood and convinced them you didn't know what it was, you wouldn't have lasted another day. _I kept you safe_."

"You kept me safe? Where were you this morning? Dobby died trying to save us!" she cried. "He didn't hurt anyone. He only wanted to give us a chance to escape. Tarus murdered him, but it might as well have been you."

"I have heard of Dobby," Albert said solemnly. "I gather that he was an uncommonly loyal servant and a good friend. I am truly sorry that he has been killed, but believe me when I say that I would gladly trade your life for a hundred of his, or fifty of any of your friends'."

"Why?" Ginny cried out. "What is so important about me? What does everyone think I'm going to do that is worth all of this?"

"I don't think anyone knows for certain," he replied, "but it's clear to me that it's very important that you be protected."

"How could it be important enough to make you help Tarus and the Brotherhood?" Ginny asked him. "They killed your father. They've killed loads of witches and wizards. Tarus would kill me, too, if he thought he could still get to Harry."

"No, he would not," Albert replied with a surprising amount of conviction. "Though he sometimes forgets it, he does not control the Brotherhood. He is only a powerful ally, and not powerful enough to stand against us."

"Us?" Ginny choked. She shook her head and laughed bitterly. "Oh, don't I feel naive." Her body felt numb as she strode forward and shoved Albert against the back of the chair. She should have guessed it from the very first moment. Perhaps she had simply refused to admit it. She ripped open the top of his robes and reached for his neck. By the time her hand closed on the ring talisman, it was no longer surprising to her. With a vicious tug she snapped the chain.

"You're one of _them_!" she shouted, holding the talisman where Albert could see it. "I had hoped― I don't know... I― I can't believe you sat there all that time, talking about them, pretending that you were keeping me safe from them. You don't deserve to live."

"Don't I?" Albert replied. "Maybe I don't. What would you do about that?" he asked. "You've seen others killed. You know how it is done. You have even caused the death of another wizard. Now you have the anger and desire to do it for yourself. Could you truly do it?"

Ginny stared into his eyes and felt a chill pass through her. In its wake, she felt nothing. She took a step forward and raised her wand. In her mind, she could already see the flash of green. She wanted to. He'd killed Dobby, and probably dozens of other wizards. She needed him to pay for what he'd done. She needed him to see that he was wrong.

And yet, she couldn't make herself do it. Tarus had made it look so easy. It had come naturally to her in Giza, but she had been defending herself then. Now, she was pointing her wand at a defenseless wizard, a wizard she had disabled.

"You can't, can you?" Albert said with a smile. There was something about it that turned Ginny's stomach. He looked almost proud. "You don't know how special you are, do you? To spend so much time around Harry and not be affected, well, it's unusual. There was a time when he was a gathering point for all that was good and right. Now, without anything to balance him, his presence has a polarizing affect. You, however, are unaffected completely."

"Stop talking about Harry," Ginny threatened.

Albert ignored her. "I believe that Grigore is right about you. I saw it in you the first time I met you. There is the scar of something deeply evil inside you. And there is the mark of unconditional, true love. It is a rare thing to see such opposition in one person, and yet, there is another who shows the same pattern. It's odd, don't you think, that you two would be so drawn to each other?"

"I'm not like Harry," Ginny returned.

"No. No you're not. It is perhaps stronger in Harry, a testament to the speed and violence with which the two elements were mixed. He has fought them since he became aware of them, so they give him the strength to fight those who stand against him.

"In you, the forces are more subtle. You too have the mark of Voldemort upon you, but it is not a visible mark. You loved him, at least, as much as an eleven year old girl knows of love. But he returned malice, not love, and he forced you to do horrible things. When Harry saved you, your infatuation with him grew into real love, and as you grew older, it grew in strength. Harry fights the powers within him, but you accepted yours willingly. Where Harry receives the power to fight, you have the strength to resist."

Ginny stared at him suspiciously. "The strength to resist what?"

"To resist _him_," Albert replied. "Harry has a profound effect on those around him. You must have seen it in Grigore. Since he met Harry, he has become less patient, more aggressive, and more obsessed with accomplishing his task. It has made him arrogant and violent. The same thing has happened all through the Brotherhood. Some wizards have become corrupt and power hungry; others have put their emotions before the longer term concerns.

"And yet, you seem to be immune to the effect," he added, giving her a curious look. "Tarus had hoped that he would be able to teach Harry to balance the forces within him. He thought it would turn him into a powerful guardian to help the Brotherhood. In truth, you were the one he was looking for. He didn't discover that until it was too late, but many of us still hope that you will be able to restore the balance."

"After you've killed Harry, you mean," said Ginny. "I'll make the perfect little Brotherhood puppet once you've all taken over, is that it?"

"You can be whatever you choose to be," he replied. "That is the power we recognize in you. You have both dark magic and good magic within you, yet neither is able to turn your fate. Nature works in unexpected ways. We believe that you may be the wizarding world's best protection."

"Protection from what?" she asked. "It looks as though the greatest threat to the safety of the world is the Brotherhood itself."

"You are mistaken, I'm afraid. I have been to the lowest level of the Castle. I have looked behind the veil," he revealed.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked suspiciously. "What does the veil have to do with me?

"I cannot describe what I saw. Perhaps what I saw cannot be described. I do know what I heard though. I couldn't understand everything it said, but I heard it calling your name. It... felt as though it were asking― or commanding me to find you and bring you to it."

"I looked into the veil, as well," Ginny said, "but I _know_ what I saw. If you're going to try and scare me into trusting you and Tarus again using ghost stories of Dark Lord's, then you might as well stop now. It's not going to work. I see what is going on now.

"Tarus joined with the Brotherhood because he recognized you were more powerful than he was. He used you to get the power he has now, and you're using him as a mask to wear to the rest of the world. You're not a bunch of bullying thugs; you're the guards of the Romanian Minister, right?"

"That's not the way it is," Albert tried to argue.

"Close enough, I'd wager," Ginny replied acidly. "So when Harry survived, you had a problem, didn't you? Tarus tried using him, but it didn't work. So he found a way to get the great Lord Voldemort to talk to people through the veil. He used that to trick the Death Eaters into thinking that they could bring him back. All they needed to do was kill Harry. Then you took all the information you got from the Death Eaters and sold it to the Ministry, recruiting more members there and using Auguste Reynard's ambition to increase your influence there and keep a close eye on Ron and Hermione."

"No, Ginny, you're wrong. Tarus... His methods are severe, but he knows why the Brotherhood exists. He isn't fabricating this. Harry knows it as well. I would explain it to you, if you asked. Would Harry?"

"You're even worse than Tarus," she said with an empty voice. "You both manipulate others to make them do your dirty work. He does it by buying them with gold and promises. You did it by making me think that you were my friend.

"This isn't about the Veil or the wand or the Quidditch World Cup. It's about power, isn't it? The Brotherhood, Tarus, Reynard, the Death Eaters... you're all just a bunch of immature boys struggling to hoard as much power as you can before you die. You know how powerful Harry has become and how much people would listen to him if they knew he was still alive, and it frightens you."

"Do _you_ know how powerful Harry is?" Albert retorted. "I don't think anyone truly knows, not even Harry himself. I believe that knowledge would frighten anyone. He will soon exceed Albus Dumbledore, if he has not already. It isn't natural, Ginny. The world no longer has any use for wizards with that much power. We would be lucky if he would only upset the balance of nature for a century or more. It could be much worse."

"He never asked for that power!" Ginny shouted. "He doesn't want it! He just wants to live his life!"

Albert sighed. "If I knew a way to make that possible, I assure you I would do whatever I could to make it happen."

"I know where to start," Ginny replied. She jabbed her wand at his chest, and shouted, "_Incarcerous!_" A coil of thin rope shot out of her wand and lashed Albert to his chair.

He stared down at his body for a moment, then looked up at her. "Ginny, think before you do this," he warned. "The situation is more complex and dangerous than you realize. You can't face this alone. I can help you."

Ginny took the room key from Albert's pocket, then turned and walked to the door. "I don't want anything else from you," she replied. She opened the door, stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind her. After locking the door, she slipped the key back under the crack above the floor.

She walked back down to the main room and found Tom waiting for her with a curious look on his face. She walked toward him, motioning for him to join her off in one of the darker corners. He set aside the glass he'd been holding to follow her.

"Albert is in danger," she told him. "He needs a safe place to stay where he can become invisible for a few days. Would that bag of gold he put down earlier be enough to cover the room?"

"Quite enough," snorted Tom.

"Good," she replied with a smile. "I told him to keep quiet and stay out of sight. If anyone comes around looking for them, it'll be safer for him, you, and your pub if you tell them you haven't seen him since this morning."

Tom nodded and Ginny returned the gesture. Without another word, she turned and walked back out of the pub. It was a Sunday. It would be lunchtime soon, and with luck, she could slip into her office without drawing too much attention to herself. Mr. Harrington and Mrs. Reading always came into the office on the weekends. With luck, she'd be able to come up with some explanation that would work.

* * *

Her hopes were quickly dashed when she Apparated into the Entrance Hall. Within seconds a pair of Aurors were running for her. Ginny considered Disapparating again, but something about the way Harry had asked her told her that it was very important that she try and patch things up. Running away would make that nearly impossible. Instead, she simply ignored the Aurors and began casually walking toward the gate. 

"Stop right there!" one of them ordered. "You're Ginny Weasley?"

"Yes," she said with false surprise.

"We were sent to escort you to the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Oh, really," she replied innocently. "That's exactly where I was headed." One of the Aurors frowned and gave her a sidelong glance. The other gently took her elbow and led her toward the security gate.

They arrived at the Department offices a few minutes later. There was a bizarre sense of familiarity to the last time she had returned from Romania. She could see a group of people standing about in front of Carmilla's desk, including another pair of Aurors and her brother, Percy.

When she finally reached the small lobby area, she noticed a few notable absences. Unlike last time, Josef was not there, and perhaps that was for the best. More surprisingly, Harrington was not there either. The only people from the Department were a very annoyed looking Carmilla and Mrs. Reading. Evelyn was undoubtedly nearby, though she would never be so obvious as to stand in plain sight.

Percy was the first to speak. "Where have you been?" he asked. "There were reports that you were at Ron's match yesterday, but no one saw you leave. Now you suddenly appear here. It's not normal for you to come to the Ministry on weekends. Where were you between then and now?"

"Keep quiet, Percy," groaned an annoyed Mrs. Reading.

"She _is_ my sister," he replied. "I think I am entitled to ask her where she's been. My parents are probably out of their minds with grief. If she―"

"You haven't even seen either of your parents for a week," Mrs. Reading said, cutting him off. "You don't even have an official reason for being here. The Minister only sent you because you were skulking about his office on a Sunday and Reynard doesn't trust you."

Percy scowled at her. "I was sent here because the Minister hoped she would be more willing to talk with me. Considering the current situation, I think you would be wise to be more accommodating of the Minister's office."

Mrs. Reading gave him a patronizing smile. "Percy, if you truly understood what was going on, I think you would be wise to make as many friends outside the Minster's office as possible."

"What's going on?" Ginny asked. "What _situation_ was he talking about? Where is Harrington?"

"Ferdinand has been speaking with Minister Scrimgeour and Auguste Reynard since early this morning," answered Mrs. Reading. "The _situation_ revolves around a number of allegations by Reynard that you have joined a secret wizarding society who has been trying to kill the Romanian Minister. Ferdinand denied it, and refused to allow the Minister to order your arrest. So, right now he is trying to convince the Minister not to sack him and all the rest of us," she explained. "Ironically, they can't do much to you because you work for the wizard they're accusing you of trying to murder."

"It's false," Ginny said.

"I know it's false," Mrs. Reading replied. "Ferdinand heard some rumors from the Aurors, and he sent me to the match. It didn't look like anyone was trying to kill Mr. Tarus. It looked like they were trying to kill your brother."

Ginny was about to respond, but Mrs. Reading quickly raised her hand to silence her. "Don't say anything!" she ordered. "I just need you to answer a few questions, alright?"

Ginny nodded.

"You were called to Romania, and you went there Thursday night, correct?"

Ginny nodded again.

A look of relief passed over Mrs. Reading's face. "And something happened there that made you return on Saturday to come to Ron's match?"

Another nod.

"Did the chain of events that led to the attacks at Chudley start in Romania?"

Ginny stared at Mrs. Reading for a moment. How much did she know? What was she looking for? With a little apprehension, Ginny nodded for the fourth time.

Mrs. Reading let out a long sigh. "Alright then," she said in a relieved tone. "Ginny, you should go to your office. Wait there until Ferdinand or I come to speak with you. It shouldn't be more than an hour or two. Carmilla, if anyone asks for Ginny, tell them that she is here, but that she can't see anyone today. They'll have to come back on Monday." She craned her head around the corner and shouted down the corridor. "Evelyn! I know you're listening! Come here if you want to keep your job."

Seconds later Evelyn Sibley walked around the corner. She didn't even make eye contact with Ginny.

"Evelyn, I need you to get a message to Harrington," Mrs. Harrington announced. Evelyn simply stared back as if it were the most demeaning job possible. "Tell the Aurors that it's a message from me. They'll have to let you in. Once you're in, tell Ferdinand: _The origin was Oras-maijos_. He'll know what to do."

Ginny did just as she was told and returned to her office. She locked the door and sat down in her chair. For some time she simply stared at the far wall and tried to make sense of everything that was happening. She had told Albert that she knew what was going on, and yet, she wasn't certain that she did. Would anyone really go through all that just to get a little power? If they were afraid of Harry, why not simply kill him long ago? She was missing something. While she waited for Harrington and Mrs. Reading, she began searching through every scrap of parchment she had about the last fifty years of events in Romania. That's where it must have all started. There had to be some clue she'd missed.

Late in the afternoon, when Ginny had read through nearly half of all the material she had, there was a firm knock on her door. It was Harrington. He looked tired and not terribly cheerful, but he didn't look angry, either. They spoke briefly in her office about what had happened. After six hours of debate with the Minister and Reynard, he'd been able to convince both wizards that Ginny wasn't involved in a plot to kill Tarus ―or, at the very least, that they could not prove such an involvement. For the time being, she was not under any risk of being thrown into Azkaban.

He did warn her that both the Aurors and Reynard had demanded that she speak with them as soon as possible. They wanted answers to the same questions everyone else had been asking. Harrington advised her to do the same thing Mrs. Reading had. She was to refuse to answer any questions about the Chudley incident or the events leading up to it. Harrington claimed that he was already getting close to working out just what had happened and why, but that it would be important that Ginny remain quiet, both for her own safety and the safety of anyone else she might tell.

When he was finished, he bid her good day, and told her she should leave as soon as she could. He didn't want anyone trying to interrogate her with so few people around. Monday would be a stressful day, and it would be best if she faced it after a long night's rest.

* * *

She Disapparated from the Ministry and Apparated directly into Grimbok's private lobby. She found Harry waiting for her in a large leather chair nearby. Hermione was standing next to him, looking rather unhappy. When she saw Ginny, it only made her unhappier. 

"I already told him that you were successful," Hermione announced sourly.

"How did you know?" Ginny asked.

"Randolf said Reynard is threatening to have me sacked," she replied. "He said that they're worried about the amount of influence you have over me. He talked to the witch who spotted us on the path. They know that you were there, and they know you came to me. And then _someone_ told Harrington that the whole thing started in Romania, so you wouldn't be able to talk about it. He was _furious_." Hermione looked at the ground. "He thinks we're both members of the Brotherhood," she said shakily. "If he can't interrogate you, he's going to interrogate me. He's got ways... I― If he does, I'll end up in Azkaban. I know it."

"I'm sorry," Ginny apologized. "I― I didn't mean for that to happen. I was only doing what everyone told me to. There must be something we can do."

"Oh, it's going to take more than some prank to slip out of this one, Ginny," Hermione said bitterly. "If you talk to them, they'll make you tell them about Romania, and Chudley, and Grimmauld Place. And if they don't throw you in Azkaban, the Romanian Ministry will throw you in whatever place they throw all their criminals. If I were you, I'd hope for Azkaban."

"Don't worry about that right now," Harry said softly.

"That's easy for you to say," Hermione shot back. "Everyone thinks you're dead. Perhaps I should just fake my death, then?"

"Well, that is one possibility," admitted Harry. "It would crush Ron, though. I think he might be fond of you, and he's no use to me if he spends all his time moping about."

Hermione shot a withering glare at him, but he ignored it.

"We don't have to worry about it because no one is going to be interrogating Ginny tomorrow," Harry explained, then added, "―unless, of course, something goes horribly wrong."

"And why is that?" Hermione replied.

"Because he's planning to do something tomorrow," Ginny answered for him. "Something big and very dangerous."

Harry smiled at her. "I guess that means Fred and George are going to be able to do it?"

"Yes," she answered. "They're making as many Shield Cloaks as they can. They gave me two of them. I think they know that something is going to happen soon."

"Quite soon, actually," Harry replied. "I'll need to leave tonight. You two will come tomorrow, and unless it's completely impossible, Hermione will need to find a way to bring Ron with her." Suddenly Harry's eyes widened, and he turned to Ginny. "How about that bloke at the _Leaky Cauldron_? Do you think he can gather his friends by tomorrow morning?"

Ginny felt her face fall into a scowl. "Oh, I think he could gather them much faster than that," she said as she reached into her pocket. She slowly drew out the broken chain, letting the golden ring hang where everyone could see it. Harry collapsed and closed his eyes. Hermione turned away and stared at the polished floor.

"How much does he know?" Harry asked.

"He knows that I know about him. He knows that we're together and that we escaped. He probably guesses that we're planning something because I came to speak with him, but I don't think he'll be telling anyone about it."

"If he had one of those, he's not your friend, Ginny."

"I know," she replied. "That's why I tied him to a chair and locked him in a room in the _Leaky Cauldron_. Tom agreed to keep it a secret. He thinks he's protecting him."

"He is," Harry growled. "And he won't stay tied up for long, but perhaps it will be long enough. I guess it won't matter." Harry let out a long breath and then stood up. "Come on. We should go up and talk with Ron. It looks like we're going to be doing this alone."

The three of them found Ron pacing back and forth in front of a large open window. He looked rather uncomfortable. The moment he saw Harry and the girls, he broke from his path and ran over to them.

"Still no word from Lupin, Harry," Ron said disappointedly. "He did say that it was going to take some time."

"Good," Harry replied as he walked to the window. He quickly closed it and pulled the curtains, making the room drearily dim.

"Good?" Ron replied. "In what way could that possibly be good, Harry?"

"I don't want the Order involved yet," Harry said. "This whole mess is complicated enough without having to keep all of them protected as well. I only need Grigore to begin worrying about what he's started. That should keep him distracted enough that we can stay one step ahead of him."

Ron stared at Harry with distaste. "So you're using them as... bait?"

"No. They're a _distraction_," Harry replied with a frown. "The Brotherhood has no reason to attack them, but they have plenty of reasons to be wary of them. I want Grigore to _think_ that I'm trying to use them."

"Right, but what happens if you succeed, Harry? Wouldn't that give them a reason to attack them? If this Grigore bloke thinks that they're going to help you, why not try and take care of it early?"

Harry stood silent for a moment. Ron had a good point. There were too many things to think of, too many different possible ways in which things could go horribly wrong. "I― I don't know, Ron," Harry said. "We'll just have to work faster than they can."

"So when exactly do we start working?"

Harry turned to look at the large clock on the wall. "I think we've got about two hours," he answered.

"What happens in two hours?"

Harry walked over to a large table, sat down and rolled out a large piece of parchment covered in a mess of scrawled notes and scribbled out lines. He pointed at the very first line:

_Grigore attacks Gringott's Bank_

Ron stared at it and then turned to Harry. "That madman is coming here? I thought this was supposed to be a safe place to hide?"

"It's safe," Harry assured him, "but I doubt it took him long to figure out where we went. He's much smarter than that. Also, I paid the goblins to close the bank for a day."

"You did _what_?" Hermione said. "Harry! Why not put a sign out front saying 'Harry Potter Inside'?"

"It's not me they're looking for, they know they could never get to me here," Harry explained. "It's the wand they're after. For months, Grigore assumed that I had been carrying it around with me or hiding it wherever it was that I escaped to." Harry frowned and looked at Ginny. "It wasn't until this morning that he realized that I'd never hide it near you. I knew he'd come looking for you, and I couldn't risk him finding the wand, too."

"So you hid it here?" Hermione said with a shocked voice. "Harry? Don't you remember your first year at Hogwarts? Quirrell got past the goblins. You don't think the Brotherhood can?"

"Of course they can," he said, "―and they will, in about three hours. Of course, they won't find anything in my vault, or either of Grigore's vaults. They'll probably make quite a mess, but the goblins think that half a vault of gold should cover the repairs."

"You mean it's _not_ here, but you paid the goblin's to make it look like it was?" Ron asked with a smile. "That's brilliant. It's a bit expensive for a prank, but it is brilliant."

"It's more than just a prank. There are only so many places where I could hide the wand, and it won't take them long to find the right one. What we need right now is time, and tricking them into wasting a single night is worth all that gold." Harry turned the parchment around and pushed it toward Ron and Hermione. "While they are wasting their time looking for the wand, we're going to be fetching something more important."

Ginny stepped forward to look at the line Harry was pointing at. It was sandwiched between two lines which had been scribbled out completely. Ginny read it, but could barely believe what it said:

_Retrieve Charlie's Ring Talisman from the Vault Room._

"The Vault Room?" Hermione asked incredulously. "The Department of Mysteries? You think you can break into the Department of Mysteries in the middle of the night and get to the Vault Room?"

"Not in the middle of the night ―tomorrow morning," Harry corrected her. "I'm leaving tonight, while the Brotherhood is here. When news of the attack reaches the Ministry, they'll send Aurors. That's going to make it a lot easier for me to get in."

"Harry, things have changed since the last time you broke into the Ministry," Hermione warned. "They post Aurors at the gate. How do you plan on getting past them?"

"I expect I'll be escorted," Harry replied with a slight smile. "Or rather, Josef Kantos will, as an official emissary of Grigore Tarus."

"That's pretty clever, Harry," Hermione commented, "but it's not going to get you into the Vault Room. The only wizard allowed in at night is Reynard himself, and no amount of Polyjuice or transfiguration will get you past the Detectors on that doorway."

"That's why you're going to get the talisman for me," Harry replied. This caught Hermione by surprise, and for some time she simply stared at Harry.

"This is a bad idea, Harry. You don't seem to be thinking this through. What makes you think that anyone is going to let me take Charlie's ring? They don't trust me anymore. I don't see how you or Josef could help with that."

"You'll see," he said. Harry sat back in his chair and started explaining his plan. He needed to go to the Ministry that night while the Aurors were distracted. Disguised as Josef, he would go to Ginny's office and wait overnight, taking Polyjuice Potion to maintain his disguise.

Ginny and Ron would Apparate into the Ministry early the next morning. They would need to come in an hour before new shift of security wizards, and that meant showing up at six in the morning. Ginny would go immediately to her office to meet Harry. A short time later, Hermione would Apparate into the Ministry and go to the Department of Mysteries. Once she was in her office, she would send a memo to Ginny.

"Hold on, Harry," Hermione stopped him. "Have you not been listening to what I've been saying for the last hour? If I set foot in the Department of Mysteries, there's no way they're going to let me send a memo to Ginny."

"They will if they think you're giving them the one thing they want even more: Ginny."

Before she knew it, Ginny found herself glaring at Harry as if he too had betrayed her. What was he thinking? Did he want Reynard to know about him? Just a little more than a week ago, he'd said that she should do whatever she could to avoid talking to Reynard, and now he wanted her to deliver herself to him?

As if he could read her mind, he reached out to touch her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, Ginny, I'll be with you," he told her. "You're not going to be interrogated by anyone."

"Why even risk it?" Hermione remarked. "If you want the Ring, I could just Walk in, take it, and slip out before anyone realizes what I've done. There's no need for you or Ginny to get involved at all."

"Really? Right now, Aurors are searching for you and Ginny. What do you think Reynard will do if he sees you show up at the Ministry before they find Ginny?" Harry asked. He didn't wait for Hermione to answer. "He'll toss you in a dark room and make you tell him. You're the only one who can get into the Vault Room, questioning Ginny is the only thing that will distract Reynard long enough to let you, and I'm the only one who can keep her safe," he said, then added, "No offense, Ron."

Ron gave him an accepting shrug. Hermione was less agreeable. "You want to sneak three people into the Department of Mysteries, so that one person can retrieve an item that has no value, no magical powers, and poses no threat to you or the wizarding world. I'm sorry, Harry, but that sounds pretty stupid to me."

"Of course it does," Harry agreed, "―when you say it like that. If the talisman is so useless, why did the Department of Mysteries lock it in a vault? Why does the Brotherhood work so hard to keep them a secret? Why did the loss of one of them in Giza upset them so much?"

"Fine then," Hermione relented, "but is there something important about _that_ one? Does it have to be Charlie's? Wouldn't any of them do just as well? We've already got one," she said, pointing at Ginny's hand which still clutched Albert's talisman.

"We've got two," Harry corrected. "I grabbed the one she picked up at Giza this morning before everyone woke up. I had hoped that we could get by with two of them."

"Well, we have two now," Hermione said with a hint of desperation. "We don't need to try this stupid plan."

"We need as many as we can get," Harry replied. "I'd rather have a few good wizards than that talisman in her hand, but I hadn't imagined that we'd be able to get more than two. If we can get three, it will make it even easier."

"Easier to do what?" cried Hermione. "Easier to get Grigore _really_ hacked off at you? Easier to start a war? Is that what you want?"

Everyone stared at Hermione, surprised at the sudden outburst. Harry was watching her with an uncertain curiosity. "What is it that you're afraid of, Hermione?" he asked.

"You're running out of friends, Harry! How many of them have died?" she asked as a tear ran down her cheek. "Stefan. Sabine. Now Dobby. How many others are there? How many of us are left? Think about it, Harry. They tried to kill Ron. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

For a moment Harry simply stared back at her, as if waiting for her to say something more to explain herself. When it didn't come, he answered in a soft voice, "It does. That's why I've tried to keep Ron as far away as possible. I've tried to protect you, too, but there is only so much I can do. I'm not the one in control of this. Not yet."

"And you think getting the Ring will help change that?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded. Hermione stared back at him. "Alright then," she said resignedly, "let's do it."

"Hold on," Ron called out. "The three of you are going to run off to the Ministry, and I'm supposed to do what? Stay here and make breakfast? I might not know as many spells as Hermione, but I'm just as good in a fight."

"I know you are, Ron," Harry replied, "and I hope you're willing to prove that. You're going to have to take the place of the pack of wizards we were supposed to have helping us. Getting in is the easy part. It's going to be a little trickier getting out. I don't expect we'll get very far before the Aurors come looking for us. We'll need you to wait for my signal and then prepare our escape route."

"And what signal am I supposed to be waiting for?"

"You remember how to use these?" Harry asked as he tossed a shiny Galleon to Ron.

Ron took a look at it, frowned, and looked up at Harry. "It's one of the Galleons we used for the D.A., isn't it?"

Harry nodded and told Ron that his job was to sit in the Entrance Hall and wait for the Galleon to change. When he felt the Galleon warm up, he was supposed to stun the guard at the gate and then take the first lift to the Department of Mysteries.

"You make it sound easy," Ron remarked. "How long is this supposed to take? You don't think the guards will let me just loiter about the Entrance Hall while the Department of Mysteries is robbed, do you?"

"We're not _robbing_ anyone. It was Charlie's talisman, and you and Ginny are his family. By rights, it's your talisman, now," Harry argued.

"Right, I'll just explain that to the Aurors, then," Ron replied.

"If they hassle you, tell them you're waiting for Hermione. That should keep them from bothering you ―at least until the alarms go off."

Ron's head dropped. "I really hope there's more to this plan than you're telling us, Harry, because right now it sounds like an excellent way to have us all thrown in Azkaban."

"Have a little faith, Ron. I've done alright so far."

Ron frowned. "Sorry, Harry, but I don't think I'd call your last plan to sneak into the Ministry a stunning success."

* * *

They spent some more time working out more specifics: when Ginny would arrive, just how much time Hermione should wait until arriving, and a number of signals they could use to try and warn each other of problems. 

As the sky dimmed, Harry called for the house elves to bring up food for four. They ate a quiet, tense supper, keeping one eye on the food in front of them and one eye on the window.

Harry knew how Grigore operated. When the sun set, the street would be plunged into darkness. The lamps along Diagon Alley would flicker to life, illuminating the stream of wizards which wouldn't thin for another hour or more. In that time, it would be easy for a number of wizards to slip through the crowds or along the shadowy store fronts. They would break into Gringott's silently. They would be in the large cavern of vaults before the goblin's even realized they were there.

Except this time would be different. The goblins were going to be waiting for just that occurrence. They had already moved the entire contents of Harry's vault, and they had promised to send word the moment the Brotherhood reached it. At the same time, they were going to call for Aurors. And that was just what Harry needed.

He'd been watching the clock anxiously for some time. The Brotherhood was probably breaking in right then. It would be only minutes until the house elf arrived. He might as well get ready. There would be no time to waste later.

Ginny watched over his shoulder as he rummaged through his bag. He'd stuffed it hastily, but he knew he hadn't forgotten the small bag. Finally he found it pinned underneath a bundle of cheap wands. He quickly opened the small leather bag and dumped an assortment of parchment envelopes onto the table. He was searching for one in particular. He flipped them over one by one, reading off the names as he went. Finally, he found the one he was looking for:

_Josef_.

He picked it up gingerly, finding the touch of it loathsome. Ginny stared at it as well.

"What's that?"

Harry gently opened it and reached a single finger into it. A second later, he withdrew it, revealing a number of small dark hairs. He pinched a few between his thumb and index finger and used his other hand to close the small envelope.

Ginny stared at Harry's hand distastefully. "You stole some of his hair?"

"Yes," Harry admitted, "and it's a lucky thing I did, isn't it? There aren't many other wizards who could slip into the Ministry without any questions."

"And you're certain that Josef is one of them?"

"To be honest, no, but he's our only choice," Harry replied. "Anyone else and they'd make me wait in the Entrance Hall like all the others. They've seen Josef before. They're probably expecting him to show up. If I time this right, they won't even waste time talking to me."

Harry carefully placed the hairs on a piece of clean parchment lying on the table, and fetched the bundle of wands. There was another reason why he was lucky that Josef had been the one to visit Ginny. If Josef had entered the Ministry, they would have cataloged his wand. If Harry came in with a different wand, they might notice and ruin his plan before it even started.

He poked his way through the bundle looking for something that would do. They wouldn't have paid any attention to the wood, but Josef's wand was rather unique. He used to have a number of them, but he had left Number Twelve Grimmauld Place in something of a hurry.

He finally found one: Thirteen inches with a dragon heartstring core. It was a rather rare combination, and it had taken Harry quite a while to find someone who sold them. Harry tested it out briefly, making sure it wasn't cracked or damaged in any way. With a quick flick, a pot of dazzlingly bright flowers appeared on the nearby table. They seemed dreadfully out of place in the dreary mood of the room, but he didn't feel like summoning anything that might fit in better.

Next, he walked to a small chest that was sitting near the door. He opened it and searched for one of the larger purple bundles of cloth. Josef was a little taller than he was, and it was important that there would be nothing notable for the guards to talk about after he left.

"Harry!" shouted Ginny. Harry felt his heart skip. There was a panicked urgency to her voice. He grabbed one of the robes and ran to see what it was.

He found her standing near the window, staring at the floor. Hermione and Ron were there as well. Between the three of them stood an elderly house elf carrying a silver platter. On the platter was a silver flask, a large silver funnel, and a small cauldron filled with something that looked like bubbling mud.

The Brotherhood had found his vault.

"Good evening, Master Potter," the old elf greeted him with a bow of his head. "Grimbok says to tell you that the Grey Ones have reached your vault, and are entering it presently. It has, of course, been emptied for some time."

"And the Aurors?" Harry asked.

"They have sent word to the Minister himself."

Harry nodded grimly. "I guess it's time for me to go then," he said. He leaned over and took the platter from the elf, who disappeared without a word. Harry scooped the hairs from the nearby parchment and dropped them into the dark colored sludge, which emitted a haze of acrid smoke. When it had settled down into a thick, muddy red paste, Harry poured it into the flask. Reluctantly, he brought it to his lips.

"No, wait!" Ginny shouted as she launched herself at him. Harry kept a firm grip on the flask as she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a long, firm kiss. He felt her arms go slack, and then slowly she backed away from him again, and nodded.

He'd never really liked the taste of Polyjuice Potion. He doubted anyone did. That was perhaps the one thing which kept its use in check. It was easy enough to find someone who had some brewing if you had the gold to pay for it, but it was hard to imagine anyone putting themselves through the hourly torture of drinking it. Of course, that was just what Barty Crouch Jr. had done, but he was stark raving mad.

Harry changed quickly and took a gulp of the potion. After a few moments of extreme discomfort, Harry emerged looking exactly like the wizard who had betrayed him nearly a year ago.

There was no time for long goodbyes. He had to get to the Ministry quickly. He waved quickly to his friends, put the wand he intended to pass off as Josef's into his pocket and raised his own.

"Good luck, Harry," Ginny said with a weak smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," he replied. A second later, he was gone.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

First Dobby and now this. I know this will be hard on some people, but it had to be done. I promise that it won't get all that much worse than it is right now. We're nearing the finale, so things have to get a little tense.

After the next chapter, I'll be asking for comments from my readers. Nothing obigatory, of course, but I figured I'd warn you now. If anyone wants to be an overachiever, they can mail me their theories about what might be going on, but I'll tell you now it might seem clearer after the next chapter.

So, here's looking forward to the next chapter. My beta was really sorry for the delay, but mid-terms can be like that. In other news, I have officially started Chapter 1 of "The Amulet of Stone", which will be the sequel to 'The Ring of Gold". (Notice the pattern?)

Enjoy.


	20. The Voice From the Veil

**CHAPTER 20**

**The Voice From the Veil**

* * *

Harry Apparated into the Ministry of Magic and found himself immediately surrounded by dozens of Aurors. A few of the more excitable ones shouted and drew their wands on him, but they relaxed a moment later, encouraged by the disapproving looks of their peers. As they went back to their business, Harry realized the Aurors were standing in four queues leading to nearby fireplaces. He'd timed his arrival perfectly. All the Aurors were headed to Gringott's. 

"Pardon me, sir," one of the older Aurors said, catching Harry's attention, "but now is not the best time to visit the Ministry. Perhaps you could return tomorrow morning."

Harry bowed politely in greeting, but shook his head. "I am afraid I cannot," he replied, trying to mimic the formal and almost condescending tone Josef always used in such situations. "I am on an official errand to the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"An official errand, eh?" the Auror replied with a frown. "What sort of official errand?"

"I am delivering a message from the Ministry of the Wizards of Romania," Harry replied stiffly. This news earned him a scowl from the Auror.

"Romania, is it?" he growled. "That's all the more reason for you to come back tomorrow. That name alone is enough to put most wizards here on edge. I can't have you lurking about all night and I don't have any spare wizards to keep an eye on you. I suggest you find yourself a nice inn and return tomorrow morning."

Harry stiffened and returned a stony glare. "I am an official emissary for the Ministry of Romania, and my business is with the British Liaison to Romania. Under the Official Communication Agreement of 1807, _you may not keep me from my errand._"

"I don't care what some old piece of parchment says," the Auror growled. "I have orders to clear this room. _Nobody_ comes in or out. Not tonight. Serious trouble is brewing, and it'll be my head if I disobey my orders."

"It will be your head if you do not," Harry replied sternly. "My orders come from your Minister. I know the trouble you speak of, and that is precisely why am I here."

Most of the Aurors had already left, but one of the last paused to shout some advice to the one in front of Harry. "Do what he says, Marshall! The last Auror that stood up to him was sacked on the spot."

Harry smiled lightly and spoke slowly. "I am going to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I appreciate your concern for my safety. I will notify your Minister of your commendable... tenacity."

The last Auror queuing for the fireplaces disappeared in a whirl of green fire, leaving Harry and the wizard named Marshall standing alone in the center of the Hall. At the far end, the security wizard sat at his desk while another Auror stood in the center of the security gate and watched him carefully.

"Come on, then," the Auror grumbled, "but you're checking in just like any other guest, and I'm telling the guards on Level Five that you're not to leave without an escort. You're business is there, and you've no reason to be wandering anywhere else."

Harry nodded and followed the Auror to the security desk. Just as he'd expected, the wizard there asked for his wand, and wrote down its characteristics. Before he could impale it on the spike, the Auror snatched it from his hands.

"Just a moment," he said with a sour smile. He looked down at the slip and read it aloud: "_Thirteen inches. Dragon Heartstring core. In use for ten years._" With a suspicious glance, he kneeled down and lifted a gigantic book up onto the desk.

"Your name?" he asked sharply.

In a bored voice, Harry answered: "Josef Kantos."

The Auror paged through the large book, running his finger along the columns of names and wands, until it finally stopped. He stood completely still for a moment. Without looking up, he called out to his partner, "MacCauleigh! Wand out!"

The second Auror at the gate pulled his wand and trained it on Harry, while the first stared at him with narrowed eyes. "This book here says that Josef Kantos' wand has been in use for only nine years. So who are you?"

Harry forced himself to remain calm. There had always been a chance of this happening. "I _am_ Josef Kantos, and my wand _was_ in use for nine years when that entry was made."

"It was only _nine days ago_," said the Auror. "That's quite a coincidence, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Harry answered coolly, "but it is a coincidence which has happened nine times before. If you have doubts about my identity, may I suggest a more reliable method to resolve our dispute?"

The Auror raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

Harry stepped forward until he was only inches from the other wizard. "Lock me up," he growled. "Throw me in Azkaban Prison. If you are correct, then you will have put me where I justly belong. If I am correct, then by nightfall tomorrow, I will be here and you will be the one in Azkaban."

The Auror's lip twitched as he glared at Harry. "There will be no need for that," he said.

"Then give me my wand and let me pass!" barked Harry.

With begrudging obedience, the Auror handed Harry the wand and stepped aside. As Harry pocketed the wand, he heard a wavering voice call out from behind him.

"MacCauleigh! See that Mister Kantos reaches Level Five without any further disturbances." The second Auror quickly put his wand away and dashed to open the gate for Harry.

* * *

Once they reached Level Five, they found another Auror guarding the lifts. Harry's escort told the new Auror just what Marshall had said in the Entrance Hall. He wasn't to leave the level without an Auror escorting him. He pointed Harry down the hallway that led to the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and then stepped back into the lift and disappeared. 

The remaining Auror regarded him suspiciously but said nothing, so Harry decided to ignore him as well. He cautiously walked in the direction he'd been pointed, hoping that it would be obvious where he was supposed to go. Ginny had told him how to find her office, but she'd left out the directions for finding the Department itself. Luckily, the Department found him.

"How come I'm not surprised to see you here?" a voice echoed down the hallway. Harry spun around and found someone following him. It took him a moment to recognize the man as Ferdinand Harrington. He continued talking as he walked toward Harry.

"The Auror guarding the Entrance Hall —Marshall I believe— said you were coming up. He also said that you told him that Scrimgeour sent for you. Now, you might have been completely within your rights to threaten him with Azkaban, but you need to be a bit more wary when you lie about working for Scrimgeour. He's a proud wizard and he doesn't like feeling manipulated, especially when it's the truth."

Harry didn't know just how to respond. How well did Josef and Harrington know each other? Had he made some horrible mistake? Could Harrington be a member of the Brotherhood, now? There was only one thing Harry could do: play along.

"It was the truth, from one point of view," he replied hesitantly. "If your Minister knew I was coming, he would have ordered them to let me pass. The order was implicit. I simply failed to mention that."

"I wonder how many other things you've failed to mention," Harrington commented enigmatically. He stopped right in front of Harry. "Are you here to make things better or worse?"

"What do you mean?"

Harrington slipped his hands into his pockets. "Scrimgeour didn't send for you. In fact, no one other than the goblins, the Aurors and a few Ministry officials know what is currently going on in Diagon Alley. But you do, don't you?" He didn't wait for Harry to respond. "You know what is happening; you knew just when it would begin. My question is: Are you here to tell us why it's happening, or to keep us from learning what you already know?"

"I assure you," Harry began to explain, "whatever is happening at Diagon Alley poses no threat to the British Ministry."

"From one point of view, perhaps," Harrington scoffed. "From _my_ point of view, it poses a very real threat to my Ministry, my Department, and my employees —especially Miss Weasley." The old wizard stepped closer to Harry and dropped his voice. "Why are you using _her_? Why not someone in the Department of Mysteries? What does she know that is worth so much to you? You and your Ministry were interfering with her career before it even started. Why?"

Harry forced himself to answer as Josef would: "We see great potential in Ginny Weasley."

"Potential for what? Betrayal? A tragic death? Who do you really work for? Grigore Tarus? The Romanian Ministry? Or the Brotherhood of the Sacred Balance? Which one is Ginny helping? Does she even know?"

"I guarantee you," Harry said seriously, "nothing is more important to me than Ginny's safety."

Harrington gave him a dubious look. "I'll judge that based on your actions, not your words. I know Tarus is up to something, so is this Brotherhood, and I think you're part of it, too. Whatever is happening in Romania, you make sure it stays in Romania, Kantos. If you are only here to do your job, then do it and leave. I won't let you drag an innocent girl into this. Tarus and Reynard have gathered plenty of power already. If they want more, tell them to find someone else to use as their puppet."

After a moment of tense silence, Harrington stepped back and began walking off. "Come on," he called out. "The Aurors said they didn't want anyone wandering about through the corridors. They're worried that this business at Diagon Alley is just a diversion for an attack on the Ministry. I've unlocked Ginny's office. You can wait for her there."

Harry was glad that the confrontation was over, and that Harrington was showing him the way to the Department. It was much closer than Harry had expected. As they rounded another corner, Harry saw a large desk that must belong to the receptionist.

"Ferdinand?" a witch's voice called out. "Were you talking to someone?"

Standing just around the next corner was a young witch staring at them from behind a mess of brown hair. Harrington paused for a second, then answered. "Yes, Evelyn. Josef has returned. He needs to speak with Ginny, of course, and it seems he'll be waiting here for her to arrive."

Harry thought he noticed a slight change in her expression, but it melted away an instant later. "Sounds exciting," she commented.

Harrington ignored her and gave Harry a slight bow. "I'm afraid that I spent most of the day trying to prove that Ginny wasn't trying to kill you and your Minister. There are mountains of things I must look through. I'm sorry we cannot chat any longer. Perhaps tomorrow morning, after you speak with Miss Weasley?" he asked with a smile.

"Perhaps," Harry replied kindly.

"Very well. Evelyn, would you see Mister Kantos to Ginny's office?" He waited for a small nod from Evelyn before turning and opening a large wooden door. He stepped through it, and closed it sharply, leaving Harry alone with Evelyn.

She stared at him for a moment, then began to walk away. After a few steps she paused and looked over her shoulder. "Are you coming?" she asked.

Harry quickly followed her. The directions Ginny had given him began to make sense. She led him past a large room filled with cubicles and down a short corridor lined with doors. When they reached the corner, Harry spotted a door with a golden nameplate on it: _Evelyn Sibley_.

Evelyn opened the door to her office and leaned against the frame. She lazily raised an arm and pointed down the corridor. "Weasley's office is that way. It's one of the doors on the left. I don't go down there much, but I'm sure—"

"I remember which one it is," Harry told her.

She stared at him for a moment. "Of course you do," she replied. "I, er... I've got some work to finish up, but I wonder if I might speak with you later. It's nothing serious, just a little curiosity. I figured that since the Aurors won't let us leave, that I might as well ask."

Harry smiled politely and nodded. "Of course," he replied. "I don't expect Ginny for quite a few hours." Evelyn backed into her office and closed the door, leaving Harry to stand in the corridor alone. He turned the corner and continued until he found a door with Ginny's name on it.

The door was unlocked just as Harrington had told him. Harry walked in and opted to leave the door open just a few inches. He found the idea of someone sneaking up on him more troubling than the lack of privacy.

For a few minutes he walked about the office just inspecting the things around him. He convinced himself that it was his survival instincts needing to catalog his surroundings in case he might suddenly find himself cornered. In reality, it was only the first symptoms of what would inevitably be hours of boredom. Josef had always been much more patient than he was. It didn't surprise Harry at all that everyone readily accepted that he would arrive hours before Ginny just to ensure that he saw her the minute she came in.

After a thorough inspection of the room, Harry felt confident that, in the event of an emergency, he would be completely vulnerable and hopelessly trapped. He pushed that thought from his mind and went about arranging more practical matters. He found a clock on the wall and noted the time.

Ginny would be arriving at six o'clock in the morning with the usual crowd of early-risers. They would report that she was already in the Ministry, thus allowing Hermione to arrive ten minutes later without being interrogated immediately. She would need ten minutes to send the memo. He and Ginny would need another five to get to the Department of Mysteries. The morning shift of guard wizards arrived at seven o'clock. That gave them only a half hour to get what they came for before the Ministry filled with well rested wizards, eager to catch anyone foolish enough to try to rob it.

Harry worked out the times he would need to take more Polyjuice Potion. He decided he didn't want to take any risks. He would drink it every fifty minutes, and he would put off taking the last dose as long as he could. It would be hard to explain Polyjuice Potion to the guards, and it looked like he'd need the full hour.

Harry examined the large bookcases along the wall. One of them was mostly empty, but the other was quickly filling with all sorts of old books about Romania and the history of Quidditch. Mixed in with them, he found a number of more troubling titles such as _Masters of Malicious Magic: Dark Arts Sects Revisited,_ _Cults of Carpathia_ and _A Catalogue of Dark Magic Rituals_. She must have been trying to research the Brotherhood.

Harry grabbed _Masters of Malicious Magic_ and sat down in Ginny's desk. The book looked old, but the information in it was surprisingly current. It included a chapter on Grindelwald, and even Voldemort and the Death Eaters, though it still listed him as living and terrorizing Britain. It must have been written only a short time before his parents' deaths.

He flipped past the chapter. That was history. He needed information about the present. Of course, there was no chapter about the Brotherhood. They were much too secretive for that. Harry checked a number of other chapters for any information he might find. If they were mentioned in the chapter on Slavic warlocks, he would never find it. The chapter was huge, and seemed to be written in a rushed manner, as if the author himself had been daunted by the huge number of dark wizards worthy of mention. There were no mentions in the sections on Symbol Worship or Immortality Cults.

He was about to put it away, when he spotted something interesting. A number of the pages had the tips of their corners worn and turned down, as if someone had left the book open to that spot for quite some time. Harry found a particularly well worn spot, and opened the book to that page.

It was the center of a discussion of dark magicians in Egypt. He scanned the pages for minutes before finding the passage which Ginny had found so interesting.

_Oral tradition of the local wizards occasionally mentions a very secretive cult centered around the Nile Valley. Hieroglyphics on the walls of wizards buried in the valley seem to confirm its existence. While some tombs have been discovered to be elaborate hoaxes, some wizards claim that the other tombs prove this cult to be the first dark arts sect in the world, predating even the Smoke Dragons of Central China._

_While experts are undecided upon the truth of this claim, there seems to be little dispute over the current status of this cult. The last recorded sighting was over a thousand years ago, when it is suspected that all of the members died in a bloody battle over control of the area around Giza._ _Today, they are remembered only in the folklore of the area as grey-cloaked "tomb demons" who kill children who stray too close to the tombs of dark wizards._

He understood why it had caught Ginny's eye, but there really wasn't much of interest there. There were plenty of secretive groups and many of them wore cloaks. He found another area of worn corners and searched through the pages. This time, it was a little easier to find what he'd been looking for.

_A large number of the tribes living in Macedonia gathered together into a loose confederation. No one tribe was given any more power than another, and they symbolized this relationship by the wearing of circular talismans hung from their necks. The talismans served as both a symbol of their promise to the other tribes, and the method for calling them together. _

_It is unknown just how the rings were used, but it has been said they would signal the members, alerting them to meet at a preordained location. This would often be a hilltop, cavern or other landform where they would sit in a wide circle, reinforcing the symbology and reminding them of their identification with the natural order. In later years they called themselves the Brotherhood of the Ring. Reports say they were all killed in the giant attack on Skopje in 1401. _

That one was even less likely. While the name sounded similar and it might be easy to see some similarities, the Brotherhood of the Sacred Balance rarely gathered all of its members at the same time, and Harry had never seen them sit in circles. Of course, Ginny couldn't know any of that.

Perhaps that was why Ginny had so many of these books. There was a good chance that none of them contained any information about the Brotherhood. They were much more reclusive than any of the cults mentioned in the book he was reading. They had survived by extreme secrecy. As far as Harry could tell, no one outside the Brotherhood had known of them until Voldemort's death. That was when Grigore had become obsessed with him. Grigore had traded some of that secrecy for a chance to kill him, but he'd failed. Now it seemed there was little he wouldn't do to accomplish his goal.

Harry looked up at the clock. He'd only passed an hour of his time. It wasn't even late in the evening yet. With a sigh, he turned back to the book. Even if it was futile, it was better than reading the World Cup Committee reports.

Harry paged through the old book, looking for anything that might capture his interest for any period of time. As he paged through, his eyes stopped on one particular heading: _The Lost Death Gates_. Above the heading was a small picture of a sheet of dark cloth hanging over an arch.

There was one page of text, with an illustration on the facing page of a tall, dark castle floating on a turbulent body of water. Below it was a caption explaining that it was a castle that sat on an island in the Black Sea off Varna. Apparently it had been cursed by an old warlock when his attempt to become immortal failed spectacularly. Harry scanned the page looking for any information about the arches.

_It's unknown exactly what went wrong with the incantation, but it seems that the curse was cast by Golakhov once he realized his failure. Some loyal subjects claim that he was trying to protect the other wizards in the castle from the backlash of the incantation. Others believe he was trying to selfishly ensure that no other wizard would find his scrolls and succeed where he had failed. Whatever the purpose, Golakhov turned all of the dark energy upon himself, binding it to his body and allowing it to consume him._

_The resulting curse has trapped thousands of wizards and Muggles alike when they unwittingly step foot on the island. Once there, the dark magic of the curse corrupts and ultimately kills them, creating a veritable army of ghouls. After a thousand years of imprisonment, this army has grown so violent that local authorities have refused almost all requests to travel within sight of the island._

_The last person to willingly set foot upon the island was a German wizard named Wilhelm Reichebaum. Bulgarian officials granted his request after he demonstrated a device he had created to ward off the ghouls of the island._ _Reichebaum was convinced that the castle held an unprotected Death Gate, and that this was the source of Golakhov's power. He claimed that by securing that gate the way the other gates had been, he might end the curse, freeing himself and the trapped spirits. Reichebaum left Varna on April 24, 1927._ _He was never seen again._

_Ten years after his disappearance, investigators stumbled across a shocking revelation. As Golakhov had feared, Reichebaum had intended to finish the incantation Golakhov had begun. After being denied access to the known gates in London, Trieste, Tunis and Istanbul, he gave up and focused instead on finding lost or forgotten gates. Researchers reported that his notes had focused on two specific legends: the legend of Golakhov Castle and an ancient folktale about a Utopian citadel said to be in Hungary.__Allegedly, they also included details on a ritual to use the gates to achieve immortality. Unfortunately, the scrolls perished in a fire before this could be verified._

_Researchers from many countries agree that there are no more Death Gates to be found. They insist that the rumors of gates near Varna and Hungary are purely fiction. However, Reichebaum's notes included a very old illustration of a veiled arch, nearly identical to the arches found over the gates in London and Trieste. In the illustration (see next page) the wizards observing the gate appear to be wearing traditional Hungarian robes. The authenticity of this illustration has been hotly contested._

Harry carefully turned the page and found the mentioned illustration. He felt his blood run cold at the sight of it. It was a copy of what looked to be a painting. It didn't move, and it was printed in black ink only.

The painting itself was simple and undetailed. It depicted a wizard pointing his wand at a large stone arch. Harry recognized it immediately. It had the same cracked pillar as the arch under the Castle in Romania. However, unlike that arch, this one was without a veil or any other covering. Instead, it was filled with a hazy darkness, and in the center of it was an even darker cloud surrounding the figure of a snake hanging in a single wavy line. Beneath it, written in an antique script were four lines of text:

_Across the endless wastes and timeless sands  
I seek the primal source and final end  
In my shadow, all life is without hope  
In my light, only darkness will remain_

Harry stared at the lines and read them to himself. He felt numb. The lines were troubling by themselves, but not nearly as troubling as the fact that he had heard them so many times before. They, and many other lines like them, had haunted his dreams for almost a year. Now, here they were, scrawled across a painting that claimed to be over four hundred years old.

He read them again. It wasn't some trick by Grigore. They had been real. He stared into the arch, and tried to imagine what it all meant. Why was there a snake in the arch? What did that mean? There must be some reason.

"Excuse me, were you... _hissing_ at that book?"

Harry's head jerked up painfully. Evelyn was standing in the doorway and staring at him strangely. Harry quickly closed the book. "Er, no," he replied quickly. "I was simply whispering in my native tongue. I occasionally do that while I read. I have been told it can sound strange to others' ears."

Evelyn just nodded and kept staring at him. "What book do you have there?" she asked.

"It's nothing. I was merely passing the time."

"Oh, don't worry," she said. "I just thought it was one of mine. I forgot I had let Ginny borrow it. I'll let you finish with it, though."

"As I said, I was only passing the time," Harry repeated. "You may have it back. There are many other books here."

Evelyn walked forward and gently picked up the book. As she tucked it under her arm, she reached up to her face to brush aside a few tangled strands of hair and froze suddenly. "Oh my," she exclaimed. "I must look horrible! I didn't even think... You see, I spent the afternoon in Knockturn Alley trying to gather information on the Death Eaters and well, it's easier if you look like this... Oh. I feel so embarrassed."

She covered her face with her free hand and turned her back to Harry. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, sounding a little flustered. "I— I need to go freshen up. I'll be back a later, I promise." She quickly ran out of the office without giving Harry a chance to tell her that it didn't really matter.

Harry stared at the doorway for a moment. He didn't think he'd ever understand women. The office was only dimly lit; he could barely even tell that her hair had been messy. Of course, if the room had been as bright as a summer afternoon, he still wouldn't know why having messy hair should prevent her from asking her questions. Harry's hair had been messy every day of his life, and it hadn't ever stopped him.

He checked the clock and saw that it was time for another dose of Polyjuice Potion. The flask was in an interior pocket in his robes. It kept the viscous liquid just warm enough to maintain its stomach-turning flavor. He took a pair of quick gulps and then concentrated on not being sick.

When he recovered he turned back to Ginny's bookshelf and selected another book, _A Catalogue of Dark Magic Rituals_. Ginny had kept this book around, but after some time searching, he couldn't figure out why. Perhaps she was simply looking for the spells or ceremonies that had been mentioned in the other books.

Harry paged through the book lazily, but fairly quickly. While the authors had conscientiously decided to avoid giving the full details of the rituals, they had not felt any obligation to deny the reader accurate illustrations of the acts or results of the spells. Some of them were even more sickening than the taste of the Polyjuice Potion.

As he read about all sorts of horrible things, he wondered how many of them Grigore had tried. He'd always professed to have no desire for immortality, but he had to know about the history of the arches. He had to know how many other wizards had been convinced that they could use them to extend their life indefinitely, or to gain enough power to simply render death a pointless event in

Harry thought back to what Harrington had said in the corridor. He'd made it sound as though Grigore and Reynard were helping each other. Harrington couldn't know of the link between Grigore and the Brotherhood, but Hermione had been clear that Reynard knew much more about the Brotherhood than he had told anyone else.

A chilling thought hit Harry. What if Reynard had learned of the Brotherhood from Grigore? Grigore had always said it was important that he remain separate from the Brotherhood so long as he was the Romanian Minister. It allowed him to honestly deny involvement with them. Perhaps his motives were more selfish than it had appeared.

Harry's mind swam with the implications. What was Grigore trying to do? Was he going to betray the Brotherhood? Was that what Josef and Dragomir had sensed? What part, then, did Reynard play in all of this? Was he just another pawn, or had he been helping Grigore all this time?

"Are you alright?"

Harry looked up again and saw someone standing in the doorway. He recognized her voice before her face. It was Evelyn but she looked rather different. She was carrying a large, silvery platter which held a pair of cups and a single candle.

"You look tense," she said with a gentle voice. "Luckily, I brought some tea. It might help you relax."

Harry watched her as she walked toward him with the tray. The idea of something to wash the taste of Polyjuice Potion from his mouth sounded rather appealing. "I think some tea would be quite nice, thank you," he said in Josef's formal tone.

Evelyn smiled. "I hoped you'd say that." She walked into the room and sat down on the other side of Ginny's desk, placing the platter between them. The light from the candle shone off the pale skin of her face, making it appear to glow. Her formerly tangled hair was now hanging in a smooth, lustrous sheet which framed her face and curled playfully below her jaw. The candlelight reflected off it, adding golden highlights to its chocolate-brown color. The effect was quite striking. It was hard to believe that the exquisite woman before him was the same witch he'd seen when he left Harrington.

She looked up and Harry stared into her eyes for a moment. There were brown, like her hair, but darker. She noticed him staring and quickly dropped her eyes back down to the tea. "I had summoned two cups before I'd even thought of asking you," she said quickly, sounding almost nervous. "Maybe my Inner Eye told me you would want a cup."

"I'm afraid I do not believe in Divination," Harry commented flatly.

She smiled and let out a bubbly laugh as she nudged a cup toward Harry. "Don't worry," she whispered, "neither do I. When I was in school —at Hogwarts, of course— the Divination professor was this horrible old bat. She was right on occasion, but as my father says, if you throw enough rocks into the sky, you're bound to hit a dragon eventually."

Harry couldn't help but smile. Evelyn returned the smile and shook her head knowingly. "You've heard of her, haven't you? Sybill Trelawney? Ginny told you about her, didn't she?" Harry didn't know just what to say, so he simply smiled and nodded. Evelyn took a sip of her tea and then put the cup back on the platter. "That was what I was going to talk to you about."

"You wanted to ask me about Trelawney?"

"No, about Ginny," she replied with a sly look. "Is there some reason you want to avoid talking about her?"

"No," Harry answered quickly. "I can't reveal confidential information, of course, but you are free to ask whatever you like."

"Alright," Evelyn said shyly. "I hope you don't think I'm being intrusive. I don't mean anything by it. I'm just curious, you see. When Ginny first came here she was... a little unpleasant. Lately she's been much happier, despite everything that's going on. I think I first noticed it after she came back from Giza."

"Giza?" Harry asked. "Really?"

"Yes, that was the start of it," Evelyn answered. "She talks about you, you know —not to any of her friends— but she's asked me about you. She's mentioned you to Carmilla, and probably Mrs. Reading. And when she does, she looks more... alive, I guess. It's a nice change."

Harry stared at her, unsure of just what to think or say. "I, er— I guess that's nice to hear."

"Is it?" Evelyn replied with a smile. "You two have been spending quite a bit of time together, lately. If it's not too much to ask, how much of that was work?"

Harry tried not to look surprised. "I, er— I don't think I could really answer that."

"So it's not all work, is it then?" Evelyn said with a giggle. "I didn't think so." Harry was about to speak up, but she stopped him. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I think it's great. She looked really happy after you left last Friday. I do have one question, though."

"Er, what is that?" he asked reluctantly.

"Some of the wizards she went to Hogwarts with said that she was really good at snogging. I guess I was curious if you had, well..." Evelyn smiled suggestively at him.

Harry felt very odd. He clutched his cup in one hand and stuffed his other hand in his pocket to keep from fidgeting. He couldn't decide if he should concentrate on finding some convincing response to what she said or ask her for more details.

After what felt like an eternity, her smile softened. She put her cup on the platter and reached for his hand. Harry tried to pull it out of her reach, but she caught it and wrapped both of her hands around his. The touch of them was warm and soft against his skin. He wanted to pull his arm away, but he couldn't force himself to wrench it from the gentle grip of her delicate fingers. Slowly, he felt his anxiety ebb away.

When she saw him relaxing, she flashed a warm smile. "I'm sorry," she said in a calming voice. "I've made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to. I was only curious. It's none of my business. I'm happy for you, I really am. We can talk about something else, if you like."

She let go of his hand and the air in the room felt cold and harsh in comparison. He forced himself to reach for his cup again and drink some of the tea. He tried to keep his motions as smooth and fluid as possible. It was important that he not appear agitated or worried. That wouldn't look right. Josef was always in control of his emotions. Harry just needed to take control of his.

Doing that would have been much easier once he got the picture of Ginny lying across her desk while kissing the wizard who he had once thought of as his friend. The same wizard who had betrayed him. The wizard who had put Ginny's life in danger by exposing her to the Brotherhood.

Harry heard a sharp _crack_, and jerked his hand away from his cup just as it split neatly into two pieces. It dropped onto Ginny's desk, splashing tea everywhere.

Evelyn frowned and covered her face with her hands. "Oh, this is my fault," she scolded herself. "Please accept my apology. I didn't know it was a stressful subject. It must be hard to do this while everything else is happening." She pulled out her wand and wiggled it at the spilled tea. Without saying a word, the largest pool leaped off the desk as if grabbed by a whirlwind. It spun around faster and faster, pulling other droplets off the desk into a spinning tornado of tea until it formed into a single ball of wildly spinning liquid.

"_Evanesco!_" she said sharply, and the ball disappeared with a flash.

Evelyn laughed softly. "I never got to use that when I was younger," she said with a smile. "My father always said it was a waste of my talents."

Harry looked at the two halves of the cup and pulled out his wand, feeling he should have been the one to clean up the mess his lack of control had created.

"Oh, don't worry about the cup," Evelyn reassured him. "I picked them up last year from some shady street vendor. They break all the time." She aimed her wand at the two halves of the cup, and smiled. With a puff of smoke, the two pieces became a pair of darkly colored birds, one with a bright red crest. They flew in circles around Harry for a few seconds before disappearing in simultaneous puffs of smoke. When he looked back down at the desk, Evelyn had already summoned another cup and was holding her wand to its rim. Harry watched as the cup slowly filled with a dark, richly colored liquid.

"I'm afraid my tea is never terribly sweet this way," she apologized. "I feel that too much sugar overpowers the flavor from the leaves, and that comes through into my magic."

"That's quite alright," he replied. "I've never really liked a lot sugar in my tea, either."

Evelyn smiled again. "So, we need something else to talk about. We could talk about politics, but I think that would be rather like a bird talking to a fish about how to dig a hole. Maybe something else. How about the prospects for the Quidditch World Cup, or that bastard Reynard and how he's squandering the best magical researchers in Europe?"

* * *

Ginny had Apparated into the Ministry at precisely six o'clock. She had been awake for hours before then, packing and repacking a bag of various magical supplies. Harry hadn't said exactly what he expected the Ministry to do to stop them, but he seemed to be taking it seriously. She hoped that no one would search it at the Ministry. There was no reason why they would. Harry had said that no one would stop her. 

Harry had been wrong.

Ginny had spent at least five minutes arguing with the Aurors at the gate that she needed to enter. They had been ordered to call Reynard if she arrived, but no one was able to find him yet. They wanted to make her wait, and they were succeeding until she remembered the one thing that had always worked.

The older of the two Aurors had paled immediately at the mention of Romania. However, they'd still wasted valuable time, and by the time she'd found an open lift, Hermione had already Apparated into the Entrance Hall. She wouldn't have much time. If she ran into any more delays, it might upset their plans.

The lift ride was uneventful, and the walk to the department offices was disturbingly quiet. She turned the corner and found Carmilla writing in a large book. Ginny nodded as she walked her desk.

"Oh, Ginny!" Carmilla called out. "There's something I should tell you—"

"I know Josef is here," Ginny replied. "That's why I came in."

"No, that's not it—"

"I don't have time right now," Ginny said apologetically. "This is really very important." Ginny kept walking, hoping that whatever Carmilla needed to tell her was something useless and not some news about Aurors waiting in her office. She ignored her fears and just kept walking.

She turned the last corner and made her way to her office. A twinge of fear ran through her when she saw that the door was open. She stopped in the doorway and her blood ran icy cold at the scene before her. There were two people in her office, one speaking in a voice she faintly recognized.

"So, the Swiss Minister is sitting at one end of the table insisting that he's never seen any of the gold while Ferdinand was under the table wrestling with the Niffler!"

Harry —looking exactly like Josef— leaned back in Ginny's chair and laughed out loud.

"He had to lay there for an hour until the French Minister finally accepted it," the voice continued.

Ginny pushed the door open, and allowing it to strike the far wall. She stared at the laughing witch sitting opposite Harry, hoping it was just a hallucination. It couldn't be. It didn't make sense. It wasn't possible.

Evelyn and Harry turned to face Ginny simultaneously. They were both smiling, as if expecting Ginny to join in on the laughter at any moment. She felt no such desire.

"What— I—" she stammered. She felt her jaw clenching. She stared at Evelyn. She had fixed her hair. She'd put on nice robes. There was a silver platter on Ginny's desk with the remnants of a candle sitting in the center of it. She was even _smiling_. Ginny's eyes narrowed on Evelyn.

"What are you doing in my office?" she growled.

Evelyn's smile fell away, and was replaced with an expression of innocence. "Nothing, I swear," she replied. "I was just keeping your guest company. We were stuck here all night because of the attacks. I swear we didn't talk about Romania at all."

"Get out," Ginny ordered. Harry sat up and gave her a confused look.

"There's no reason to be upset, Ginny," Evelyn said sweetly. "We just talked. I'd never try to steal him from you."

"You'd never—" Ginny cried out, then choked on her rage. She felt her fists clenching and her nails digging painfully into her palms. "Evelyn, get out of here before I do something no one will be able to cure."

Evelyn frowned. "Alright. I suppose it has been a rough night," she said. She picked up the platter and smiled at Harry. "It was nice talking with you, Josef. Ginny's right. I should go. I'm sure you two have quite a bit of... business to attend to," she said with a sly smile. "Hopefully she'll be less tense after a bit of... talking."

Ginny felt her hand reach for her wand, and before Evelyn could turn around it was aimed at her chest. Harry shot out of his chair and leaped between Ginny and Evelyn.

"She's right," he told Ginny. "We have a lot to talk about, and _this is no way to start the morning._"

Evelyn smiled again and walked cheerfully out of the office, leaving Ginny to glare at her and fume in impotent anger. When she was gone, Ginny slammed the door sharply and glared at Harry.

"What were you doing with _her_?"

"I was being friendly," Harry replied. "Josef always _acts_ personable and caring."

Ginny's posture didn't change. "Well he didn't seem think much of Evelyn. When he was here, he didn't say much to me, and barely anything to anyone else."

"He didn't say much?" Harry asked suspiciously. "You were in the same room for a couple hours and he didn't say much?"

Ginny felt a flash of anger. "A couple of hours? Who told you that, Harry?" she asked threateningly. "Was it your new friend, Evelyn? Did she let that slip out sometime last night?"

Ginny waited for Harry to respond, but he never got his chance. As he was staring at her, she heard something slide under her door. She turned just in time to see a piece of parchment folding itself back into a winged shape and flap eagerly toward her.

Ginny glared at Harry as she plucked the memo from the air, opened it and quickly read it. "I talked to Josef for a few minutes at most. I don't know why Evelyn thought we had been talking for hours. And while I'd love to fully explain just how delusional she is, we need to leave now. Hermione was stopped before she even got to her office. She's waiting for us already."

Ginny couldn't tell just how she felt as she and Harry walked back to the lifts. She was filled with an irrational anger at Evelyn for sitting in her office, and an unhealthy amount of annoyance at Harry for letting her. Evelyn had done it because she knew Ginny would be outraged. Yet, at the same time, she felt a paralyzing fear of what she knew they were about to attempt. The only thing that gave her the strength to walk was the knowledge that Harry would be by her side.

Harrington attempted to stop them, but Ginny deflected his questions and told him that she was working for Tarus at the moment. She nodded to Carmilla as she passed, and saw an apologetic look on the older witch's face. Ginny understood now. She had been trying to tell her that Evelyn was in her office causing trouble.

As they waited for the lift, Ginny could barely hold herself still. She felt like she was about to explode with twenty different emotions, and it was only made worse by the stoic look Harry had adopted. He had formulated a plan to rob the Ministry —the Department of Mysteries, of all places— and only minutes before they were supposed to leave, he was sitting in her office laughing at _Evelyn's_ jokes? How did Evelyn even _know_ jokes?

A lift nearby clattered open and Harry and Ginny quickly walked toward it. Much to Ginny's relief, it was empty. The moment the doors closed, she let out a frustrated sigh and continued glaring at Harry in disgust.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Is something—" she began to say before her anger stole her ability to speak. Unable to find any words to correctly express her feelings, she resorted to a much older form of communication. Without warning, she balled her hand into a fist and threw it into Harry's shoulder.

A sharp pain shot up her arm, followed by a dull throbbing in her fist. The pain felt somehow invigorating. It felt good to release some small bit of the aggression locked inside her chest.

"What was that for?" Harry shouted.

"How could you, Harry?"

Harry looked truly confused. "What did I do?" he asked.

"You let _her_ in my office!" Ginny roared. "Do you have any idea how long she's going to gloat over that? She'll walk around talking about how she's such good friends with Josef. I mean she had tea with him by candlelight, and he's so much nicer than I am, and— Oh, my god," she said, interrupting herself. "Did you sleep with her?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "No!" he shouted. "What do you think I am? How could you even ask—"

"Not like that," Ginny stopped him. "Did you both sleep in my office? Is she going to say that she slept with Josef?"

"If she does, it'll be a lie," Harry replied defensively.

"That's not enough to stop her," Ginny grumbled in response.

"Well, er—" Harry stammered uncomfortably. "She does also seem to think that you and Josef are fond of each other, so—"

"Is that what she said?" Ginny interrupted as a fresh wave of fury passed through her. "How dare she—"

"Why is it that you two don't get along?" Harry asked.

"Why?" Ginny repeated as though he'd asked why mermaids don't wear trousers. "Do I have to give only one answer? Because she's wretched. Is that a good enough reason?"

"I think you're exaggerating a bit," Harry said in a low voice.

Ginny goggled at him. "Am I? Maybe I am," she said as she stepped right in front of him. "She's so much worse than 'wretched' can really convey. Evelyn Sibley is one of the most vile, miserable, hate-filled, selfish, and loathsome creatures to ever trouble this world."

He frowned and stared down at her. "Alright, I get the point. You don't like her." Ginny nearly choked. Harry ran his hand through Josef's hair. "Still, she knows about a lot of things—"

"—That's what she does." Ginny interjected, "She researches people."

"—Yes, and we could use somebody like that," Harry added. "She's really not as bad as you think, once you get to know her. I think we could trust her."

Ginny stared at Harry in complete silence for a moment, then the peace was broken by the gates drawing open noisily and revealing the Atrium level. A pair of witches stood and gazed at Ginny as she stared threateningly at Harry.

One of them finally made a move to walk into the lift, but Ginny held out a hand. "Pardon us," she apologized. "I'm transporting this wizard to the Department of Mysteries. He's clearly suffered a horrible _head injury._ He's mentally unstable and I couldn't vouch for your safety."

The two witches stared at her blankly, then took a couple steps back from the lift. The gates shut and Ginny shoved Harry with all her strength, succeeding in only putting him off balance for a moment.

"You want to trust _Evelyn Sibley_?" Ginny shouted. "The only thing I would trust her to do would be to poison us in our sleep, hack us to bits and sell our organs to some shady potions-maker in Scotland. I hear the scalp of a true red-headed witch fetches a handsome price, but you're the Great Harry Potter. I'm sure a Galleon wouldn't get more than a few strands of your hair, the Death Eaters would pay a fortune for your blood —but of course, they'd need all of it and you could probably sell it for more by the vial— and who knows how much someone would pay for your scar? Hell, even I'd pay sixty Galleons for some Powdered Potter Pancreas, but let's not count our Basilisks before they're hatched, eh Harry? Once we've got Evelyn on our side we'll know everything we need to know, and we'll be able to stop Tarus, and we'll be famous, and every child will have their own soft little bunny, _and bloody hell, Harry, are you out of your mind?_"

Just as she finished shouting the doors clattered open and a soothing voice filled the lift: _Level Nine. The Department of Mysteries and Courtrooms One through Ten._ The moment they stepped out of the lift, a pair of figures in dark robes were striding toward them.

"Ginevra Weasley?" one of them asked as he approached.

Ginny simply nodded. The other wizard drew his wand but kept it at his side. The first wizard stepped close enough that Harry could see his face. He was grizzled, and had a long scar running along one eyebrow and down the side of his face. He was obviously the one in charge. The other wizard was only there for protection.

"Reynard is happy that you agreed to speak with him," the leader said. "I'm afraid we weren't told you'd be bringing a guest." He looked at Harry disgustedly. "You won't be needing his protection. It's perfectly safe here."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll keep yourselves safe from her," Harry said testily. "I'm here to see that she is kept safe from you."

"Keep quiet, Kantos," the wizard snapped. "We know where your loyalties lie, and her safety isn't among your greatest concerns."

"Today, her safety is my only concern," Harry countered.

"You're in the Department of Mysteries, now. You're greatest concern should be for yourself," the wizard growled. Before Harry could say anything more, the wizard turned away to stare directly at Ginny. "When did you last speak with Grigore Tarus?"

Ginny didn't respond. Instead she turned to look at Harry. Was she supposed to answer? Harry had said that no one was going to be interrogated.

She got her answer a moment later, when Harry forced himself between Ginny and the older wizard. "No questions," he announced sharply. "She talks to Auguste Reynard or no one."

"He's busy," the wizard sneered. "Until he's ready, she'll talk to us."

"No," Harry commanded. "She talks to Reynard only, or I take her back to Romania." Ginny could almost feel the tension sparking between the two wizards. Of course, Harry could only bluff. There was nowhere for her to go. If they ran away now, they'd have to leave Hermione behind, and Ginny understood enough to know that Reynard couldn't be trusted any more than Tarus.

"You're not Tarus," the wizard growled. "Your orders don't mean anything."

"Neither do yours," retorted Harry. "She's here because she chose to be. Not even Reynard himself can compel her to speak about Minister Tarus or anything she's seen in Romania. I'm here to see that he doesn't force her to say more than she chooses."

The older wizard frowned and glared at them menacingly. "You think you're so smart, do you? You think that you're in charge here?" he asked as he gestured around them. He leaned closer to Ginny and dropped his voice. "How much longer do you think you'll be able to hide behind Tarus? His land is crumbling around him. Even his little cult is turning on him. You may have this one bent to your will—" he said with a nod toward Harry, "—but soon, even your pretty face and all the favors you're willing to give won't be enough to buy the protection you'll need. It's time to get yourself some new friends, while you can still sell your old ones for something more than a pair of socks."

Ginny stared into his eyes and felt oddly calm. "Get out of my way," she commanded. "I'm here to speak with Auguste Reynard, not some worthless henchman." All the anger and frustration she'd felt in the lift was gone, leaving only a cold determination to accomplish the task at hand. She would deal with Evelyn later.

She was beginning to understand why Harry had done all the things he had. There really was no one to trust. The more she got involved with him, the more she realized that everyone had turned on him. Everyone had turned on each other. They were all struggling for power and blaming their failure on Harry. And yet, somehow he was still fighting. Whatever it was he was trying to do, she was going to help him.

She shoved the wizard backward and began walking down the long hallway. She didn't turn back to look, but she knew that Harry was following close behind her. There was no sign of the other two wizards. She had expected them to follow them to Reynard's office, but they seemed content to simply stand at their post.

Perhaps their only job had been to try and rattle her. Perhaps they would have succeeded without Harry. He'd seemed so confident and relaxed as he stood his ground. _He had been expecting it,_ she told herself, _he knew exactly what Reynard was going to do._ That was a reassuring thought. Harry was in control. She was confident that she would never see the inside of Reynard's office. Harry knew what he was doing. She just needed to keep walking and playing the part he had given her.

"Turn right," he whispered.

Ginny saw a large corridor split off the hallway to the right. A flight of stairs led down to a wider corridor lit by a series of torches. As they walked, Ginny spotted another doorway at the end of the corridor. It was guarded by another pair of robed wizards. This pair, however, said nothing to them. They simply nodded as Harry and Ginny approached, then pulled the heavy iron door open.

With a little more caution, Ginny entered yet another corridor. This one was quite unlike the others. The rest of the level had been only dimly lit, unadorned, and severe. This corridor felt more like some bizarre dungeon museum. Sparsely placed torches illuminated a collection of paintings and pedestals holding unnamed artifacts, but left much of the rest of the corridor in darkness.

"Reynard's office is the last door on the left," Harry whispered.

"Are we actually going there?" Ginny asked worriedly.

The answer was equally concerned: "I hope not. Just keep walking."

Ginny kept walking, but each step took a little more effort than the last. Clearly, Harry was waiting for something to happen, but she couldn't see what that might be.

"Psst!"

Ginny froze, less than twenty feet from the door to Reynard's office. She couldn't tell where the noise had come from, but whatever it was, Harry had heard it, too. Before they could even turn around, a pair of arms grabbed them and pulled them bodily into the shadows along the side of the corridor.

"What were you two doing?" Hermione hissed. "That's Reynard's office!"

"We know that," Harry whispered back. "I was waiting for you to stop us!"

In the darkness, Ginny could almost feel the frustration radiating off Hermione. "Harry, if you do anything like that again, _I'll_ kill you. Come on. They're following you. We don't have much time before they figure out you two disappeared."

Hermione dashed across the corridor and led them through a darkened opening Ginny hadn't even seen. They turned a corner and suddenly the corridor was lit by another line of torches. Hermione picked up the pace, but Harry suddenly stopped.

"Wait," he called out. "Where are we going?"

Hermione whirled about to glare at him. "I'm going to the Vault Room, and you're following me to the Switching Chamber."

"Why?" Harry asked. "We'll wait for you in your office."

"Do you think they're completely daft, Harry?" she hissed. "There are a pair of guards standing outside my office. That's the last place you want to go."

"You go," he told her. "We'll take care of the guards."

"No, Harry. No more stupid risks," she scolded him. "I work here —for the moment. You'll do as I say." Hermione continued down the corridor.

"We're not getting out of here without a fight, Hermione."

Hermione spun about. "I know that," she said sharply, pointing toward the far end of the corridor. There was a plain black door flanked by torches. On the ground was a pair of formless dark shapes.

Suddenly, Ginny heard shouts from behind her, followed by the sound of boots running. Harry heard it, too and his head swiveled about, searching the corridor for something.

"They know," he announced. "Can we make it to your office without being seen?"

"Shut up about my office, Harry," Hermione said as she pulled him toward the far end of the corridor. "We're out of options. Run!"

The three of them turned and ran for the black door. As they got closer, Ginny saw what Hermione had pointed at earlier. The two shapes on the floor were guards. Hermione must have stunned or incapacitated them somehow. Seeing them there made Ginny realize just what was happening. It was real, now. She was attacking the Ministry.

Hermione yanked the door open and practically shoved Harry and Ginny through it. She jumped through after them and then slammed the door behind her. Ginny recognized the room: a circular room lined with unmarked doors. It had been three years since she'd been there. Almost immediately after Hermione shut the door, the room began to spin about, turning the walls into a continuous, blurring line of black doors. Only seconds later, the doors came to an abrupt —and dizzying— stop.

The doors were still black and unmarked. Nothing had changed, and they didn't even know where they had come from. That didn't seem to bother Hermione though. She was striding directly for one of the doors. Perhaps it didn't matter which door they went through. They only needed to escape.

Hermione wrenched the heavy door open and quickly stepped inside. From inside the room Ginny heard someone shout, "No one is allowed in this room except Mr. Reynard!" He was not prepared for Hermione's response.

"_Stupefy!_"

Hermione urgently motioned for Harry and Ginny to follow her into the room. It was dark and Ginny could barely see anything in the room beyond the unconscious wizard on the benches off to her right. The door behind her closed, cutting off the only source of light. Her eyes strained against the blackness until her head began to throb.

"_Lumos!_"

Hermione's wand began to glow faintly, casting enough light for Ginny to get a glimpse of her surroundings. There really wasn't much to see except rows of benches descending off toward the darkened center of the room. She heard a gasp of pain from behind her, and when she turned around, she found Harry doubled over in pain.

"Harry!" she shouted.

As she knelt down next to him, he collapsed onto the stairs. Ginny moved to grab him, but backed off as the light from Hermione's wand focused on him. The skin on his face was bubbling grotesquely and his jaw was clenched tightly. She lit her wand and turned to find Hermione.

"What's wrong with him?"

Hermione ran back up the stairs and stood between Harry and the door. "It's alright, Ginny!" she called out. "He'll be fine. It's my fault. I didn't even check. They must have put up wards against transfigurations. It's reacting to the Polyjuice Potion."

Ginny waited tensely as Harry's twitching slowed. After only a few seconds, he was lying on the steps, groaning and covering his face with his hands.

"You're alright," Hermione assured him. "You're just... you."

He pulled his hands away from his face, and Ginny saw that Hermione was right. Josef's face was gone, and it was replaced with Harry's. He was back to his normal appearance, but it seemed that he was still in pain.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Ginny asked. "Do you have any Polyjuice Potion left?"

"I had a few more hours, yeah," he said with a bitter smile, "but I destroyed it before you arrived. Didn't want to leave evidence." He slowly pushed himself back onto his feet. "Don't worry about that. Once she gets the talisman, it won't matter. I just wish I didn't have this bloody headache." He stared into the dark for a moment, and frowned as if he'd somehow spotted something.

"Where are we, Hermione?" he asked seriously.

Hermione frowned as well. "We're safe, Harry. This was the only place to hide. They only keep one guard here. The rest of the guards stay away."

"Why?" Ginny asked reluctantly.

"Because they're paranoid gits," she replied testily. "They think the room is cursed. Reynard puts only one guard here, because pairs of wizards kept fighting. I think they just can't get past their superstitions. But, you two are smarter than that, so it's the perfect place to hide."

"It's not perfect, Hermione," Harry growled as he rubbed his head. "It's not even close. We have to go somewhere else. Anywhere but here."

Hermione was about to respond when the room echoed with a soft rumble, like the sound of two distant stones grinding against each other. It stopped suddenly. In the new silence, they could hear echoes of two people running, and then the sharper noise of them turning a doorknob. Instinctively, all three of them pulled their wands and took aim at the doorway.

It never opened. There was the muffled noise of a door closing, and then nothing. Hermione stuffed her wand into her pocked and walked back to the door. "I have to go," she announced. "I need to get to the Vault Room before they spread the alarm."

"We're coming with you," Harry said. "We can't stay here."

"You can't come with me, either," Hermione snapped. "You'll be fine, Harry. Just ignore the voices. They can't hurt you unless you try to go after them. I hope it's not a mistake, but I'm going to trust Ginny to keep you from doing anything stupid. Frankly, if you're foolish enough to ignore both of us, then it'd be better for all of us if you got it over with."

Hermione opened the door and stepped out of the room. Harry ran up the stairs after her, but he couldn't reach her in time. The door slammed shut. He reached for the handle and tugged at it, but it seemed to be sealed shut. A second later, the faint grinding rumble returned. When it finally stopped, Harry turned the handle, but froze before opening the door. Slowly, he released the handle, and moved closer to the door.

Ginny stared at him in confusion. "What is it, Harry?"

* * *

Harry held his hand up, silencing Ginny. Pressing his ear against the door, he listened to the noises coming from the other side. He could hear voices. The throbbing in his head was growing, but he pushed it from his mind, and focused on whatever was happening on the other side of the door. 

"That one!" shouted a muffled voice. "They went this way!"

"Forget about her!" another yelled. "He doesn't care about Granger. She's a diversion. It's the Weasley girl and the impostor he wants."

Harry listened as they argued and tried to count how many voices he heard. There were at least four of them —probably more— and they were already searching for Harry and Ginny. This had not been part of his plan. They weren't supposed to be looking for them until Hermione had gotten the talisman. They weren't supposed to know that he wasn't really Josef. There wasn't supposed to be so many of them, and he couldn't think with all these voices in his head.

"You two," a voice shouted from the other side of the door, "you stay here. You, come with me. Radford, take Whitherstone with you. We're going to check these doors —all of them."

Harry practically leaped away from the door. He spun around searching the darkness. "Come on," he told Ginny, "we need to get out of this room."

"And go where?" she asked. "We don't even know where we are."

"I know where we are," he replied. "Just follow me." Harry walked quickly along the wall, dragging Ginny behind him.

"Harry? Where are we?" she asked shakily. "There's something wrong about this room. I feel... odd."

"Just keep moving," he told her. Harry followed the wall until he found just what he was looking for: a second entrance. Harry tugged at the door, but it didn't budge. He pulled his wand out, and aimed it at the door. There was a flash of light, and he felt his feet leave the floor.

He heard Ginny scream, and then felt sharp pains in his back and shoulders as he landed on the stairs. He rolled halfway down the stone steps before finally coming to a stop. As Ginny ran down to his side, Harry heard the sound of a number of torches flaring to life.

As the room lit up, Harry found her standing over him, but her eyes were drawn to the sunken center of the room, not him. Harry knew what she was looking at. He could feel it. He could hear the voices whispering to him, and the same menacing growl that he'd heard in his dreams for nearly a year.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ginny said flatly. "You knew the Veil was here. You can feel it, can't you? It's more than just voices, now."

Harry pushed himself into a sitting position. Ginny was cautiously walking down the steps toward the arch and veil in the center of the room. "How come this one is different?" she asked as she stopped at the bottom level. "I can barely hear it. It's like a whispering in the back of my mind. I didn't even notice before. I thought it was—"

She spun about quickly and glared at Harry. "I thought it was just the start of a headache. That's why your head hurt. Why do you feel it stronger than I do?"

"I don't know, Ginny," he said with obvious frustration, "and we don't really have time to talk about it. At any moment, a pair of wizards are going to burst through that door. The other door was sealed. I'm sure they all are."

"Just a pair of them?" Ginny asked. "I think we can handle a pair of wizards."

"If we attack them, it will only bring more wizards," he said. "We need to find a place to hide."

Ginny's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Take a look around, Harry! We're in a empty room! There's nowhere to hide!"

She had a point, he thought to himself. The room was rectangular, with plain walls a high ceiling. Like the room under Tarus's castle, the center was sunken like an amphitheater. Torches high on the walls bathed the entire room in light, giving them no shadows in which to hide. No other exits to run to. He needed to think of something, but the voices and whispers inside his head seemed to get louder every second.

"We need, er—" Harry stammered. "We need to find... something." He reached up to run his hand through his hair and realized that his scar was warm. He blinked his eyes and tried to get them to focus, but instead of making things clearer, it made the room spin about him. He lost his balance and dropped back onto the stairs.

"Harry!" Ginny cried out. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing..." he mumbled as he crawled back up the steps and away from the arch. "I just— We need to think..."

Ginny ran up the stairs after him. She caught him halfway to the locked door, and tapped her wand to the tip of his head. There was a brief, refreshing moment where his skin felt cool and damp, but it passed quickly, leaving Harry feeling hot and dry. Ginny aimed her wand at him again, and he saw a flash of light. For a moment, he thought whatever she'd done had worked, but her expression suggested that it had not.

"No Disillusionment. No invisibility," she said with obvious frustration. "I don't know what to do, Harry. Can we put out the torches?"

He felt only slightly dizzy after shaking his head. "I don't think so," he told her. "I think they light themselves. When they come in, they'll know someone is here. If we go back to the door, they should extinguish themselves. Of course, unless the guards are completely daft, they'll check on their mate over there." Harry nodded toward the guard lying near the other door.

"Then we've got to try leaving the way we came in," Ginny said. "If we're lucky, we can slip past them while they're checking some other room."

It would be nearly impossible to do that without giving the guards a chance to call for help. And even if they did, it wouldn't be long before the Brotherhood would show up. Of course, they were doomed for certain if they didn't do something, and 'nearly impossible' was still better than 'certain failure'.

Harry focused on the other door and walked quickly toward it. As he'd done before, he listened to the door, trying to see if he could hear anything that would help them guess when the two guards in the Switching Room were alone. He heard the low rumbling of the doors as they zoomed around the adjacent room. When it stopped he heard voices, and this time they were real, not just the echoes of the dead in his mind.

"They must have run off already," one voice said.

Another, the same voice which had given the orders earlier, seemed to disagree. "If they ran off, we'll find them eventually," he said, "but if they slip past us, we'll be skinned for sure. We're going to search the Hall of Prophecies again. You two check the Death Room."

"The Death Room?" squeaked a another voice. "Antonio's guarding it. They couldn't have gone in there."

"Check it," the leader barked. "I said we'd check them all, and we will. If he was sleeping on the job, then it'll be his neck and not mine. Wake the sluggard up and tell him to stay that way. After that, keep checking the rooms. They'll show up eventually." Harry heard the sound of a door open then close sharply, followed by the rumble of the spinning room.

Harry stepped away from the door, trying to ignore the buzzing in his mind long enough to think of something clever. When that failed, he did the only thing he could think of.

"Er, we've got a problem," he warned Ginny as the sound of the spinning room died off.

She narrowed her eyes. "What sort of problem?" she asked warily.

A series of sharp taps echoed through the room, followed by a muffled voice: "Antonio! Open up!"

"There's nothing to do now," he said defeatedly. "We've got to fight. I... I don't know how we're going to get Hermione out. I don't know if we can even get ourselves out. This is a disaster."

"Not yet it isn't," Ginny whispered. "The torches, do you think they would turn on for a stunned person?"

"I guess," he replied confusedly.

Ginny grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him over to the stunned guard. "Toss him farther down the stairs." Harry took a hold of the wizard's arm and heaved him onto the stairway. His body began rolling down the stairs, flopping about wildly.

A pair of booming echoes shook the room as the wizard outside pounded on the door. "You better not be sleeping you lazy bastard!" a voice shouted. "Wake up and open this door, _now_!"

Harry stared at the door. Surely the other guards were able to open the doors. After all, he had. It wouldn't be long before they realized that the guard wasn't coming to open the door.

"I don't see how that helped," Harry whispered with a nod toward the guard. "We're still stuck in an empty room with one working door."

"Come on," she said, dragging him back down the stairs. "There might be only one door, but this room isn't empty."

As they reached the bottom level, Harry heard the dreaded _click_ as the door behind them unlocked. It was then that he realized what Ginny was going to do. "No, Ginny! I can't—"

"No time, Harry," she growled and pulled him around to the far side of the small dais, putting the arch and veil between them and the unlocked door. Ginny walked right up to the veil, pulling Harry with her. She stood between him and the veil and wrapped her arms around him. "Close your eyes," she whispered. "Don't move and don't make any noise."

Harry was frighteningly close to the arch, far closer than he'd ever been. He held Ginny tight. If he went through the veil, he would have to take her with him, and that thought was frightening enough to force him to control the urge to step through the archway. It didn't stop the voices, though.

The droning murmur of voices from the veil rose in a threatening crescendo. They sounded frightened and full of despair. They were trying to tell him that something horrible was about to happen. He could stop it. He _must_ stop it.

"Antonio!" a voice echoed over the noise of the veil. It was clear enough for Harry to tell that it came from a young man. The guards were in the room. "Antonio! Wake up you lazy git! We've got intruders lurking about!"

A second voice rang out over the first. "Use your eyes, you half-wit! Do you think he fell asleep on stone stairs? They got him. They must have come through here first, and turned back when then realized there was no way out," the voice said, adding, "I almost feel sorry for him."

"Almost?" the other wizard exclaimed. "He doesn't even have his wand out. They killed him and he never even had a chance to defend himself. They're a bunch of bloody cowards."

"He's not dead," the other voice echoed. "Look around you. The torches were lit before we opened the door. That means he's still alive. If they wanted to kill him, they wouldn't have left him there. They'd have tossed him through the veil."

"We need to wake him."

Harry heard one of the wizards jumping down the stairs, and he felt one of Ginny's hands reach down to fish her wand from her pocket. Slowly, Harry began searching for his.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," the wizard at the top of the stairs shouted. Harry froze, wondering if they had been spotted somehow. He felt a wave of relief pass over him when the other wizard stopped and shouted back at him.

"Why not?" he asked. "Maybe he can tell us where they went."

"There's nowhere for them to go! Every door but this one is broken. They don't lead anywhere. Even the most powerful Unlocking Charm would only get you a wall of stone," he explained. "What's Antonio going to say that could possibly help us? I'd bet my broom he wasn't even awake when they hit him."

"We should at least revive him!" the other wizard shouted. He began walking down the stairs again, and Harry took the opportunity to reach for his wand.

"Leave him! Trust me, it's not worth it," said the older wizard. "We have work to do, and if you're distracted by the whispers of dead wizards, you'll get us both killed."

Harry found his wand and gripped it tightly. The younger of the two wizards was much closer than Harry would have liked, and if he moved much closer to the arch, he would be able to see them. Harry aimed his wand behind Ginny's back and waited for anyone to appear around the post of the arch. There were only two of them. He should be able to disable them both with a single curse. He focused on the sound of the approaching wizard's feet and concentrated as much as he could.

Then something went wrong. He felt his wand hand tingling and his vision dimmed and blurred. A low, guttural growl echoed inside his head as pain exploded from his scar. He closed his eyes and tried to push the pain away, but it was impossible. It was coming from within him. In his mind, he could see the image of an impossibly dark shape walking toward him. It was speaking to him, and though he couldn't hear the words, he already knew what it was saying.

He felt both strong and terribly weak at the same time. His body felt as though it was coursing with electricity, yet the world felt like it was tipping and spinning around him. He struggled to stay on his feet.

"Harry! I can't hold you," Ginny whispered in his ear. "I need you to help me!" Harry wrapped both his arms around her and tried to force himself to relax. If he just held onto her, everything would be all right.

"Did you hear that?" the younger wizard called from the steps not far from the dais.

"No! I didn't," the older wizard replied. "And I don't want to."

"I thought I heard something... from..."

"Come away from there!" the older wizard ordered him. "It's the veil. The dead are speaking through it, and if you don't want to join them, you'd best keep your distance."

"Has it always done this?" the younger wizard asked dreamily. Harry clenched his jaw as he heard the wizard take a step toward the arch. He tried to get his wand ready, but as he did, his mind filled with a rhythmic hissing. The world around him seemed to melt away and he felt as though he was surrounded with an inky black fog.

Someone was shouting. His mind lazily remembered that there were two other wizards in the room. He felt his eyes open, but he couldn't understand exactly what he was seeing. The veil over the arch had changed. Instead of the impenetrable black cloth, it now seemed to be little more than a sheet of fine gauze, allowing him to see through to the other side. Everything around him was dark and blurry, but the view through the arch was crisp and almost unnaturally vibrant.

Harry stared through the arch in amazement, studying the two wizards on the other side. The wizard crouching by the stunned guard truly was young —perhaps only a few years older than Harry himself. He was staring at the arch with his wand out and a cautious, curious look on his face. Harry watched as he slowly stood up and took a step toward the arch.

"The voices..." he whispered, "... They're trying to say something. They sound troubled. Something is wrong... Someone is trapped in there..."

"No one is trapped in there," the older wizard called out. "They're all dead! This is the Death Room! You don't want to listen to them. I've spent a day guarding this place. I've heard what you're hearing and believe me, the last thing you want right now is to have those voices crawling around inside your skull."

The younger wizard ignored him. "They're trying to tell me something..."

He took another step forward, and Harry felt his arm extend, as though someone else had moved it for him. He watched passively as it pointed his wand at the wizard on the other side of the veil. A voice hissed inside his head: _a Summoning Charm will do_.

Suddenly the wizard was yanked off his feet, but he fell away from the veil, not toward it. A pair of arms were wrapped around him, and they were hauling him back to the stone stairway.

"We're not here to listen to voices," the older wizard shouted. "Come on, we've wasted enough time as it is. We need to go."

The older wizard slowly dragged the other wizard up the steps until they reached the highest level. He hauled the door open, and tossed the younger guard through the doorway and into the other room. A second later, he followed, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Before the echo of the door had died, Harry felt the ground lurch beneath him. He swayed dangerously close to the veil, then twisted away. For a brief second he felt lightheaded as the room spun around him, then it stopped abruptly. Harry slowly opened his eyes, but saw only darkness.

Groggily, he pushed himself onto his elbow. He was still on the dais, and just beyond his feet stood the arch. The stone which made the arch was glowing with a pale green light, highlighting the cracks and chips of thousands of years. The veil had been replaced with a shimmering surface that filled the arch and rippled like water.

His eyes peered into the black emptiness around him, but it was impossible to see anything. Only the arch and the stone dais existed. Everything else was shrouded in complete darkness. He was alone. Something had happened. Ginny was gone. His mind was suddenly filled with an all-consuming desire to find her.

"Ginny!" he shouted. "Where are—"

His voice was cut short with blazing stab of pain in his forehead. One of his hands instinctively reached for his scar. It felt hot, and slightly wet. He pulled his hand away and found it covered in blood.

"Ginny!" he called out again, and was answered with a blast of wind from the arch. It was hot and gritty. Harry stared into the arch again, afraid of what he might see.

Just on the other side of the rippling surface, stood the rough silhouette of a man wreathed in shadows. Harry stared at it, and it seemed as though it was staring back. Then the figure spoke. In his ears, he could hear only a harsh hissing sound, but the message echoed in his head:

"_Bring her to me._"

"_Never!_" he hissed in response.

Suddenly, the figure's arms snapped forward, striking the shimmering layer between him and Harry. It shook and rippled violently, but held. The figure stepped forward, pressing his face into the barrier. A new stream of sounds filled Harry's head. He pressed his hands to his ears, hoping to block them out, but it was no use.

_Across the endless wastes and timeless sands  
Born of atrocity and boundless pain  
With vengeance, rage, and eternal hate  
I come to claim what I have been denied_

Harry tried shouting, but he couldn't. He couldn't move. He couldn't even think. All he could see was the arch and the dark figure on the other side, and all he could hear was the figure chanting to him in Parseltongue:

_An end to life which never began  
A start to an age which will see no end  
A scar for a wound which long ago healed  
A return of a gift never given_

Harry felt the world collapsing in on him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered that he wasn't alone. It didn't matter, really. He might as well be. There was nothing he could do. He took another breath of dry air, and felt himself fall into oblivion.

* * *

"Harry, wake up!" Ginny cried. She heard the desperation in her voice as it echoed off the walls around her. The guards had only been gone for a few seconds, and she knew she was making far too much noise, but her fear of whatever was happening to Harry made such concerns seem rather petty. She leaned to her left to look at the door. It was still closed tightly. 

Ginny turned back to Harry, grabbed his shoulders and shook him as hard as she could. It didn't work. His body felt hot and rigid. She pushed aside his hair and put her hand up to his forehead. It was shockingly hot, and the heat seemed to radiate from one place: his scar.

Her mind raced. Why would his scar be hurting? It only hurt when Voldemort was nearby, but he was dead. An image flashed in her mind of the arch in Romania, an image of Tom Riddle. Her eyes leaped to the veil, expecting it to be flapping wildly, but she found it wavering only slightly as if it had been caught by the draft of some passerby.

It didn't matter. Whatever was happening to Harry had to be caused by the veil. Ginny tried to remember what spell Tarus had cast to stop the visions in her head. Whatever it was, it had put a shield around the platform it stood on and Harry was still on that platform. Pulling with all her strength, she dragged Harry off the dais and onto the lower stone floor. She raised her wand to point directly at the arch.

"_Occulo Anteroporus!_" she shouted, but instead of a cylinder of purple light, she only sent a shot of red sparks at the arch. That wasn't right.

"_Occulo Animo—_"

Before she could finish, Harry's arm shot up and his hand clutched at her wrist. For one moment, she felt a burst of jubilation, but all happiness drained from her when she looked down into Harry's eyes. They were open, but bloodshot and filled with a glowing green light. As she stared into his face, his mouth began moving, emitting a rhythmic pattern of hissing noises.

He was speaking Parseltongue.

Ginny's heart pounded painfully inside her chest. Something was horribly wrong with Harry. He'd been just fine, and then she'd had the stupid idea of making him stand next to the arch. He knew it was a bad idea from the start. He'd told her not to do it. It was her fault. He'd been fine—

_He'd been fine when he was farther from the veil._

Ginny wrenched her wrist from his grip and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. With him still staring into the ceiling and hissing incoherently, she dragged him farther away from the dais, and up as many stairs as she could. After making it a third of the way up the staircase, she had to stop. Her legs ached and her arms couldn't hold him any longer.

She pulled him off the stairs to lie next to one of the rows of benches. He'd stopped hissing —or talking— and his eyes were closed again. She watched his chest rising and falling, and felt the skin on his forehead. It was warm, but not hot. Whatever had been happening, it seemed to be reversing itself. She knelt down next to him and waited for more promising signs. After a minute of waiting, she began to wonder if he needed to be moved even farther from the veil. She crawled forward and began wondering how best to move him.

Suddenly, Harry's body spasmed violently. Ginny flinched and fell backward. In an instant, he was sitting up and had his wand pointed directly at her. Before Ginny could even understand what was happening, his mouth was opening to shout some spell.

Then he froze just as suddenly as he'd woken up. A look of fear and panic swept across his face, and he dropped his wand to the floor. For a moment his eyes gazed at her in shock, before he collapsed backward and stared into the ceiling again.

"What— What happened?" he asked hoarsely.

Ginny leaned forward and picked up his wand. "The veil, it— it did something to you. You were acting strangely. Then the guards left and you just passed out."

"That's all?" he asked. "How long was I out? How did I get up here?"

"It wasn't long. Not even a minute," she explained as she handed his wand back to him. "I had to drag you up here. Your eyes looked, er... different, and you were—" she paused, not sure just how she should describe it, "—you were talking, I guess."

The very idea seemed to frighten him. "I was talking? What did I say?"

"I don't know, Harry. You were speaking in Parseltongue."

Harry didn't say anything. He slowly pushed himself up to sit on the bench. Ginny waited for some sort of response, but Harry wasn't even paying attention to her. He was looking all around the room —everywhere but at the arch.

Ginny had waited long enough. "Harry, what happened?"

"You were right. It was the veil," he murmured. "You did the right thing."

"But, _why_ did it happen?" she pressed. "I was standing closer to it than you were. I don't even remember hearing any voices." Ginny paused and looked back at the arch. She realized that she still couldn't. She'd heard them earlier, but it was much quieter now. She looked back down at Harry.

"Something is wrong, Harry," she said firmly. "Why didn't you tell Ron and Hermione about the Veil Room in Romania? I didn't ask before because I figured there had to be some reason. I think I just saw the reason. What did it do to you? Why does Tarus think it's so important? Does he want to use it to kill you? Why did it make you speak Parseltongue? Why does it affect you, but not me?"

Harry pushed off the bench and stood up on shaky legs. "Those are all really great questions, but I'm afraid we don't have any time to answer them." He walked past her and began climbing the stairs.

Ginny ran after him, leaping from bench to bench in an effort to catch up to him. At the highest level, he turned and began following the perimeter of the room. Ginny angled her path ahead of him, and leaped from the last bench onto the walkway in front of him.

"Stop, Harry," she ordered. "There's nowhere for us to go. We have to wait here for Hermione to come back. Until then, we've got nothing else to do. Now, what happened to you?" Harry tried to walk around her, but she moved in front of him again, and shoved him backward.

Harry glared at her. "We don't have time."

"Then talk fast."

"I didn't tell them because I was afraid that Reynard would question Hermione. Reynard doesn't know why it's important or he'd have sealed this off completely. As for Grigore, I'm pretty sure I know what he wants from the veil, and now I know how he plans on getting it. Now, if we want to have a shot at stopping him from making one of the biggest mistakes this world has seen, you need to get out of my way and follow behind me as closely as you can."

Ginny wasn't sure just how to respond. What did Harry think Tarus wanted? What could he get from a bunch of dead spirits? Before she could think of any more questions, she felt a pair of arms grab her by the waist and spin her around until she found herself on the other side of Harry. Without saying anything, he turned and continued walking toward the door.

"Harry, wait!" she called out. "What about Hermione? She's expecting to find us here!"

Harry reached the door and pulled out his wand. "That's why we don't have time to waste. We need to get back here before she does." He pulled a pair of Shield Cloaks from his bag and tossed one to Ginny. "Here, you'll need this —and your wand. This is going to be a little harder than I thought, so don't wait for me to tell you who to hex."

"Where are we going?"

Harry slipped his Shield Cloak over his purple robes, and stared back at Ginny.

"We have to fetch Voldemort's wand."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Everyone can thank _QueenThayet _for this release. Some really eager begging prompted me to put this one up now instead of slightly later. It was released a few days ago on WizardTales, and I've been working on the imminent release of Chatper 21, so just hold on a couple more days.

So, now that you've got this chapter, you should have quite a bit more information about what is going on. I'm curious what anyone thinks is actually happening. Partially out of a real desire to make sure that no one is straying too far from my expectations, and partially out of simple curiousity. So feel free to flood me with your guesses. People who email me are usually surprised with the amount of spare time I have. (This goes for you, too, n.a.o.: Though names might be, anonymous throw-away email accounts are not overrated)

If not, then just simply sit where you are and wait for the next chapter. It won't be long, I swear.


	21. Traps and Traitors

**CHAPTER 21**

**Traps and Traitors**

* * *

Before Ginny was able to prepare herself, Harry had opened the door and rushed into the other room. She raced after him, but the door was already closing when she reached it. She tugged at the handle and slipped through the opening as she struggled to pull her wand from her pocket. 

Once through the door, she immediately spotted a pair of wizards standing in the center of the room. One was wearing long blue robes and the other's were brown and trimmed with gold. Somehow they hadn't noticed her or Harry yet. They were staring at a door on the other side of the room. Maybe Harry knew what he was doing, after all.

He already had his wand drawn and was pointing it at the wizard in blue. Ginny still hadn't gotten her wand out of her pocket. It seemed to be stuck somehow and she didn't have time to figure out just why. Just when she pulled it free, she heard the door to the Death room slam shut behind her. A second later, a loud rumbling filled her ears as doors began spinning all along the perimeter of the room.

The noise caught the wizards' attention immediately and they whirled about with their wands drawn. Harry fired a stunner off, but the wizard in blue was too quick. He put up a Shield Charm, deflecting the red beam into the ceiling. The wizard in brown fired a curse in response, but Harry sidestepped it nimbly and Ginny was forced to dive to the floor to avoid it.

As she scrambled back to her feet, her wand sprung loose from her pocket. She regained her balance and tried to decide just which wizard to hit first. Harry didn't seem to be aiming his wand at either of them. Instead, he was striding toward them with his wand at his side. Ginny raised her wand and waited for some clue to what Harry was trying to do.

The wizard in blue had his wand trained on Harry and was shouting some command that Harry was completely ignoring. With a lightning quick upward slash of his wand, the other wizard's wand was wrenched from his grasp and sent sailing across the room. It struck the spinning wall of doors and shattered, scattering splinters of wood across the floor.

The wizard in brown didn't waste any time watching what had happened. He quickly raised his wand and shouted something that chilled Ginny's blood:

"_Crucio!_"

Ginny raised her wand, but paused as she saw Harry's arm slash back across his body. The brown-robed wizard's arm bent as though connected to Harry's wand by an invisible cord. When he finished his curse, his wand was pointed at his comrade.

It took only a fraction of a second for the blue-robed wizard's screams to fill the room. He dropped to the ground as if he'd been struck in the knees, and continued to convulse even after the other wizard had broken the curse.

The wizard in brown turned back toward Harry with a murderous scowl on his face. He stepped back and away from his partner, preparing to attempt another curse. This time Harry struck before he could even open his mouth. He didn't say a thing, but a flash of light filled the room. Suddenly her wand hand was scorching hot. It felt like a flaming knife slicing into her palm. She dropped it instinctively and heard her own scream of pain blending with the cries of the remaining wizard.

Ginny looked down at her smoking wand, then up at Harry. He was already casting another spell. His wand strobed twice and two long rope-like shapes sprung from it's tip. To her surprise, they flopped onto the ground, growing and curling into a pair of huge snakes. They slithered toward the two wizards with startling speed, first curling around their legs and eventually wrapping around their chests as they struggled to get away.

For a brief moment, Ginny felt a stab of panic at the realization that Harry might be killing them. She heard herself shouting, "Harry, no!" but he ignored her. The snakes cared even less. They curled and knotted around the wizards' arms, preventing them from moving or fighting. Then, just as they tightened around the men's necks, they froze and their skins seemed to dry and lose color. After just a few seconds, they looked as though they were nothing more than stone sculptures.

Ginny slowly bent down to pick up her wand. It was hot, but no longer painful to hold. She stood up and stared at Harry in shock. He was still standing in the same place he had summoned the snakes, but he had lowered his wand and he seemed to be rubbing his forehead with his free hand. In front of him, the wizard in blue had stopped struggling and was staring at him with an expression that seemed to match how Ginny felt.

"Potter, is it?" the wizard asked hoarsely. "Never imagined I'd see you use the Imperius Curse. And to use it to force another wizard to use the Cruciatus? The Ministry cannot overlook this. It'll be Azkaban for you when they catch you. Albus would be so disappointed in you. You're no better than—"

"_Stupefy!_" Harry shouted, then turned and stunned the other wizard as well. He walked over to pick up second wizard's wand and quickly broke it in half.

"Harry?" Ginny called out. "Was he right? Did you use the Imperius Curse on that wizard?"

Harry kneeled on the ground pressing his palm against his forehead. "No," he answered in a muffled voice. "I didn't cast the Imperius Curse, and I didn't make the other one cast the Cruciatus Curse. I just... took control of his arm for a bit. If it had been him, he'd have known it wasn't the Imperius. When you're hit with the Imperius Curse it doesn't hurt."

Ginny walked forward and surveyed the pair of wizards on the floor. Both of them were wrapped tightly with enormous stone snakes. The snake wrapped around the one in brown had bitten down on his arm, sending a small trail of blood dripping to the floor. She inched forward and carefully touched the snake. The surface was smooth and shiny, almost as though it had been polished. It felt real enough that she backed away, worrying that they might suddenly come alive again.

"How did you do that?" she asked while still staring at them. "I've never seen that before."

"Neither have I," Harry replied weakly.

Ginny turned to look at him. He was still kneeling with one hand pressed across his forehead, but he had twisted his head to look back at her. "I've never seen it done, I mean," he explained. "I saw it described in a book, but that was only one snake and, well... I never got it to work until now."

"What's wrong with your scar?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

"It's nothing," he replied. "We need to get moving. It won't be long before the other two make it back from the Hall of Prophecy." He pulled his hand away from his forehead and Ginny felt her jaw drop. Harry's scar was inflamed and smudged with fresh blood.

"Oh my god, Harry! You're bleeding."

"Oh, you noticed that, too?" he said as he looked at his hand in disgust.

She rushed toward him. "What's happening to you?" she asked.

"I'm bleeding," he replied flatly. "I'm pretty sure we already went over that."

"But why?"

"Right now, I'd guess it's got something to do with the fact that I had to fight two wizards without any help."

"I tried to help," Ginny snapped. She held her wand hand up and showed him the pale line of the burn cutting across her palm. The skin all around it was just beginning to redden and she could feel a burning tingle spreading across her hand and down to her wrist. In an hour, the pain would be intense. For now, it was still mostly numb, and she was quite thankful for that.

"Oh," Harry grunted. "Sorry about that. I guess I hoped it wouldn't affect you quite that much."

Ginny watched as a fresh drop of blood collected at the bottom on his scar and then slowly began rolling down toward his nose. "We need to do something about your scar," she said. "That's not normal, Harry. I know there's something you're not telling me."

"Yes, well I always did like how clever you were," he said with an uncomfortable smile. "And I'm sure there are twelve ways that Hermione could patch us both up, but if we don't move fast, I'm certain that she'll never get the chance to try them." Suddenly, he closed his eyes tightly and pressed the tip of his wand to his scar.

"_Astringo!_" he said with gritted teeth. Ginny saw the muscles on the side of his jaw tense for a moment, then relax. He pulled his wand away and blinked a couple of times.

"Alright, that should work for now," he said as he rubbed part of his cloak across his forehead. "Now we need to get moving."

"Where are we supposed to go?" Ginny asked as she stared around the room. The doors had all stopped and there was no way to tell them apart. "We don't even know which one we came from. How are we supposed to get anywhere?"

"Relax," Harry said calmly. "This isn't the first time I've done this. Pull on your hood and duck."

Ginny saw Harry flip his hood up over his head and stab his arm into the air. At the last moment, she reached for her hood and dropped to the floor.

"_Micopulvis!_"

A sharp explosion like the shattering of a crystal ball echoed off the round walls. A second later, she felt a strong hand grip her shoulder and pull her back up. As she moved, hundreds of tiny points of light tumbled off her shoulders and arms like beads of water off the back of a swan.

The whole room seemed to be covered in the small sparkling points of light. At first, they seemed to be almost blinding, but the light was growing softer already. Harry was already dashing off, leaving a wake of swirling specks behind him. He walked toward the walls and then began spiraling around the room. It took Ginny only a second to see what he was doing.

As the glowing points faded, they began falling off the doors. Some of them stuck longer than the others, and the ones which remained were spelling out recognizable words: _Time Room_, _Space Room_, _Hall of Records_. Ginny's eyes stopped for a moment on one door: _Death Room_. Harry had skipped right over it and stopped at another one.

"Come on!" he shouted. "This is the one."

Ginny ran over to the door he was standing in front of. The sprinkles were fading quickly now, but she could still make out the words: _East Corridor Offices_.

"We're leaving?" she asked. She knew the East Corridor. It had an exit very close to the staircase they had climbed down to enter the Department of Mysteries. Hermione had always told her to take that way out whenever she left. It was less busy than the main corridor, and she was less likely to be hassled by overzealous guards.

"We're not leaving yet," Harry replied, "but we're probably in for a bit of a fight. You might want to get your wand ready this time. I promise I'll try not to make you drop it again. Now, stay close to me and don't let anyone sneak up behind us."

Harry turned the door handle, and put an arm out to keep Ginny behind him. Slowly, he pulled the door open but remained just out of the doorway.

"Who's there?" a voice shouted from inside the corridor.

Harry ducked and spun around the door. Ginny heard a muffled shout as the room was lit with a bright purple flash from just inside the corridor. A second later, Harry's head poked back around the door.

"The path is clear. Follow me."

Ginny walked around the door to stand in the doorway. Only ten or fifteen feet down the hallway, she saw the fallen bodies of three wizards. Two of them were still clutching at their wands. Harry was standing over them and quickly breaking all of their wands.

Ginny tried to control her surprise. "Do you have to do that?" Ginny whispered. "Isn't it enough that they're stunned?"

"No," Harry said flatly. "I know what you're thinking, Ginny. I know it's horrible, but it might be our only chance. I can't have them running up behind us. This will make them waste time finding new wands. These are only spares anyway."

With a silent gesture from Harry, she allowed the door to close behind her. Only seconds after the door clicked shut, the narrow corridor echoed with the sound of the doors spinning in the room behind them.

Ginny followed close behind Harry as he walked along the wall of the corridor. He always kept to the right hand side and walked with his wand extended in front of him. At every corner, he would stop and press himself against the wall, listening for any sounds that might be ahead of them.

Ginny could hear the sound of boots pacing some of the other corridors, but they only ran into one hapless wizard. He was old and obviously not one of the guards. Harry had stunned him, but didn't break his wand like the others. Instead, he shrunk it to the size of a toothpick and hid it in the one of the man's pockets.

As they walked, Ginny began to feel more and more familiar with her surroundings. There were corners and doors she knew she'd seen before. She tried asking Harry where they were going again, but he ignored her. They were moving much slower now. As they approached the next corner, Ginny realized that she knew exactly where they were. The path which led off to the left would take them past a pair of staircases, through an old iron gate and then up a short flight of stairs to the foot of the stairs which would lead them back to the lifts. It wasn't the shortest route, but the alternative would have taken them past Reynard's office.

"I thought you said we weren't leaving?" she hissed.

"We aren't," he growled under his breath. "Now be quiet."

He inched toward the corner and stopped within inches of the sharp corner. Ginny walked up behind him and pressed herself against the wall like he was. She looked back behind them, confident that Harry would take care of anything ahead of them. In the silence, she could hear the sound of more boots running. This time, however, there were also sounds of battle. As they waited, she felt a faint jolt through the wall behind her and the sound of a far-off rumble. It sounded as if they were in the middle of a battle.

"Harry," she whispered as quietly as she could, "I think I hear footsteps coming up behind us." Harry nodded, and she added, "I think they're fighting."

"The Brotherhood is here," he said in a low voice, "and they're waiting for us."

Ginny pointed toward the left passage, hoping Harry would understand her question. He shook his head and pointed toward the right passage. Ginny took a moment to try and understand what he was planning. The right passage led back _into_ the Department of Mysteries. Before she had a chance to ask any more questions, there was a loud crash from the passage Harry had just pointed toward.

Shouts filled the hallway and Ginny pressed herself against the wall again as a pair of silver jets of light streaked past them. After another series of shouts and bright flashes of light, the corridor quieted back down. Ginny could now hear a number of people walking across crumbled rock.

A voice echoed down the corridor: "The Brotherhood is here. They brought the Brotherhood again. Send a memo to the Aurors! Tell them we need every last one of them down here as quickly as they can get here!"

Before they could even react, a pair of footsteps was running toward them. Harry aimed his wand into the opening to the corridor and waited. Ginny readied her wand, aiming just in front of Harry's chest. The wizard reached the corner in seconds and ran past without so much as looking down the darkened corridor to his left. They waited for the sound of the footsteps to die off, then Harry turned toward Ginny.

"It's time."

He ducked down and spun across the narrow space between the corner and the far wall. His back slammed against the flat stone just in time to dodge a ball of red sparks. The moment it passed, he pushed off the wall and disappeared around the corner.

Ginny felt torn about what to do. Should she stay where she was and watch for other wizards, or should she try to help Harry? She heard his voice echoing down the corridor, followed by a flash of bright light and more shouting. Before she was able to make a decision, a wizard came running down the left corridor. He didn't see her until it was too late. Her stunner struck him directly in the face and he dropped to the floor immediately.

There was a second man behind the first, and Ginny was forced to duck under her Shield Cloak as a bolt of sparks exploded against her shoulder. The heat of the hex seemed to spread through her. With an enraged cry, she turned and aimed her wand at the second wizard.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

The curse slammed into his chest and sent him flying backward, striking the wall before falling stiffly to the floor. Ginny stepped out into the corridor finally, not to check on Harry but to see how many more wizards might be coming. Luckily, she couldn't see any more.

"Check them!" Harry shouted from behind her.

She whirled about and found him standing some distance away, with the unconscious bodies of one witch and at least four other wizards behind him. "One is stunned, the other got the full body bind," she replied. "I can stun the other one, but he's not—"

"No," Harry interrupted. "Check them for chains around their neck. Do they have talismans?"

Ginny ran over to the stunned wizard and pulled down the front of his robes. She couldn't see any chains around his neck, so she walked over to the second wizard. As she approached, his eyes shifted to watch her. It felt creepy so she stunned him quickly. She quickly checked him for a talisman, but found nothing there either.

She collected their wands but couldn't make herself break them. Instead, she simply pocketed them and began walking back toward Harry.

"No rings," she said. "They're not Brotherhood members. They must be the first Aurors."

Harry had been watching the far end of the corridor, but he turned back to her to reply. "The Aurors couldn't get here that fast. They're Brotherhood wizards, they've just taken their talismans off. It worked. They don't know why we're here."

"What worked, Harry? _I_ don't even know why we're here," Ginny said. "It's only a matter of time before this place is crawling with Aurors and this is going to be the first place they start looking."

Harry pressed a finger to his lips with one hand and held up two fingers on the other hand. He turned and pointed down the corridor. The message was clear: more wizards were coming. Ginny took a moment to listen down the other passages. She could hear boots running down stairs from one, and when she checked the narrow corridor they'd come from, she saw another pair of guards running toward them.

"Four more coming," she whispered as she ran toward Harry. "If we go now we can reach one of the staircases to the upper level. It should buy us some more time."

"We're staying here," Harry replied stubbornly.

Only then did Ginny realize just where they were. Harry was standing only feet from a small alcove cut into the corridor wall. She walked toward it and saw a heavy wooden door set in the middle of the darkened space. She had been there before. A gold plaque was affixed to the door and written across it in a flowing script was a familiar name:

_Hermione Granger_

She pointed at the door and whispered, "You think it's safer in there?"

"No, I don't," Harry replied quietly, "that's why we're out here."

The footsteps from further down the corridor weren't quite as far away anymore. Harry motioned for Ginny to join him in the darkened alcove. It would provide some amount of cover, though not nearly as much as she would have hoped. As Harry fired off the first hex at the newcomers, Ginny felt less like a thief and more like a rabbit hiding from the wolves.

As Harry traded curses with the four wizards at one end of the corridor, Ginny concentrated on keeping the other two at bay. In order to get the best angles on either side of the corridor, they were forced to aim across each other. Harry dropped down to one knee to try and let them fight without blinding each other with spell flashes.

Ginny got a good look at the two wizards fighting her. They both looked to be Department of Mystery guards. One was a tall woman with flowing blonde hair, and the other was a stocky man. The man was the slightly easier target. He moved slower and had more trouble stepping around the other bodies. However, his presence seemed to distract the woman, so Ginny focused on her first. If she could disable her, the man would be easy. However, after a number of failed attempts, she was ready to reverse her strategy and try for the easier of the two.

Suddenly an opportunity presented itself. The blonde witch had walked forward along the wall and was crouching on the floor between a pair of fallen Brotherhood wizards. Ginny could just barely see one of her feet. If she inched a little closer to the corner, she would have a clear shot. She decided it was worth the risk and slid as close to the corner as she could and extended her wand. The witch was still crouching, and she hadn't even noticed Ginny.

"_Stup—_"

Before she could finish the spell, she felt something curl around her waist and violently tug her away from the corridor. A fraction of a second later, the small section of wall she'd been standing by exploded, showering the corridor with bits of stone.

Harry had pulled her away at the last moment. The guards must have been hoping she would do that, and she'd fallen into their trap. Now they had lost both shelter and time. Ginny tried to compose herself and prepare for the battle to inevitably resume.

"How's your Shield Cloak holding up?" Harry asked.

"One hit only, I think," she replied.

"Alright. Right now, there are too many of them to deal with. Do you think you can drop at least one of them?"

Ginny nodded.

"We need to move fast before they surround us," he said urgently. "Are you ready? One, two—"

A loud explosion filled the corridor and Ginny recoiled as the floor and wall outside the alcove were showered in orange sparks. More voices echoed down the passage and a pair of curses shot across the space in front of her, going right to left. The guards were being attacked.

"More Brotherhood wizards," Harry explained. "This is getting a little out of hand."

A hail of curses shot back across the opening, headed in the opposite direction of the earlier volley and accompanied by the sound of someone collapsing onto the floor.

The next round of hexes consisted of only a single beam of red light. The moment it faded, Harry spun around and aimed his wand around the corner.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

There was a panicked shriek as a wand clattered across the floor nearby. A second later, it was hit with a ball of fire. Before the flames could consume the wand, its owner had been struck by multiple hexes and had fallen limply to the ground.

The corridor to the right was now silent, but from the left they could still hear sounds of battle. It was hard to tell how many of them there were, and just who worked for whom, but none of them were there to help Harry and Ginny and their numbers were dropping. That, at least, was reassuring.

"This is taking too long," Harry growled. Without giving her any warning, he ducked and scrambled out into the corridor and aimed his wand toward the noise.

Ginny knew when she left Gringott's that morning that she might be walking into a battle. Yet, somehow, this was not at all what she'd expected. It had the same cramped, chaotic feeling of fighting inside Hogwarts, but she'd never felt quite this confused and outnumbered before. None of that mattered at the moment, however. She was there and Harry needed her help. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her hood over her head, gripped her wand tightly and charged out into the corridor after Harry.

The reality of the battle was both more and less worrisome than she'd imagined. There was only a single guard standing near the intersection of corridors that she and Harry had hid behind only a few minutes ago. Around his feet were his three fallen companions. Harry had already stunned one of the Brotherhood wizards farther down the corridor, leaving one more beyond the guard and two down the side passage.

The guard spun around and ran toward Harry with his wand drawn. Ginny reacted without thinking. "_Incarcerous!_" she shouted. Thin cords shot from the end of her wand and wrapped tightly around the guard's legs and waist. He was quickly brought to an unsteady halt. For a moment he simply stood in place, struggling to keep his balance. Finally, a hex struck him in the back of the head and he dropped to the floor like a falling tree.

The Brotherhood member behind the wizard had a clear shot now, and fired a hex toward them. It missed both of them by a few feet, and Harry answered with a Full-Body Bind, sending him crashing to the ground. Now there were only two of them. Ginny felt a tingle of excitement at the realization. They were fighting and winning. The other two wizards couldn't know just where they were. They had the advantage.

Harry pressed himself against the wall and Ginny did the same. They waited silently for the other pair of wizards to enter the corridor. When they did, they would have a clear shot. Their silence seemed to spur their quarry forward. The echoes of their footsteps was growing louder and more defined.

Harry stunned the first wizard the instant he stepped around the corner. The second one saw his partner hit, and managed to dodge Ginny's hex. He quickly twisted and fired a curse back at the two of them as he stumbled over the bodies of the fallen combatants. She took aim and fired a second stunner at him, but missed his back by inches. As Harry turned his wand on the man, Ginny felt herself being ripped from the floor and violently thrown forward as a searing heat spread across her back.

She felt herself drop onto the floor and tumble across the bodies. The skin on her back felt like it was on fire, but she knew she had to get up. She could see the wizard in front of her dropping to the ground, but there must be at least one more wizard in the corridor.

Ignoring the pain in her ribs and back, she pushed herself onto her knees and looked back toward Harry. To her horror, she saw a tall wizard in grey robes standing less than ten feet from Harry with his wand already aimed directly at him. Harry had frozen. He simply stood where he was and stared at Ginny as though her eyes might show him some solution.

The Brotherhood wizard behind him slowly walked toward Harry, keeping his wand pointed directly at him. Ginny carefully climbed to her feet. She recognized the wizard. His name was Razvan Lupescu. She'd met him several times already, and that could only mean that he was one of the more powerful Brotherhood members.

She was still holding her wand, but she wasn't sure what Lupescu would do if she made any threatening gestures. He stared back at her. Not until she began slowly walking toward him did he finally speak.

"Miss Weasley, there is still time for you to escape," he said.

At the sound of his voice, Harry's eyes twitched. "Good morning, Razvan," he greeted the wizard with derision. "Still haven't found a replacement for Tiberiu, then? Or are you having trouble finding volunteers? I hear wizards who murder their partners often have that problem."

"Enough, Harry," Lupescu growled. "He was broken and corrupt. I cured him. I freed him from the prison you constructed in his mind. I will never forgive you, but I will have my revenge. It is over, Harry."

"No," Ginny croaked. She leveled her wand at Lupescu and continued walking forward.

"You are in danger, Miss Weasley. You have precious little time to escape," he said. "Please, leave now while you can."

"You're the one who should think of escaping," Ginny replied. "I won't leave without Harry, and the Aurors will be here shortly."

"No Aurors will come," Lupescu said in a cold tone. "The messenger... did not make it. Now run off. Harry and I have business to attend to."

Ginny shook her head. "I'm not going without Harry," she said solemnly. Every Brotherhood member she had talked to had acted the same way around her. For reasons no one could explain, they valued her life over their own. Now was the time to see if they valued her life over Harry's death.

"If you kill him," she said as she stepped forward again, "I won't escape. I will stand here and fight until the Aurors are forced to kill me. I won't stop. Even if they capture me, I will fight until my death. Kill Harry, and you'll be killing me." It had worked. She could see the uncertainty behind his eyes. "If you fail to kill Harry today, there will always be other chances. If I die today, there will be no second chances."

Lupescu stared silently at her for a moment, then spoke slowly: "Once Harry is dead, there will be no more danger. We must restore the balance. After that, nature will run its course. Your life is your own. I leave it in your own hands to do with it what you will."

The world seemed to slow to a crawl. Lupescu's eyes slid from Ginny to the back of Harry's head. Ginny tried to aim her wand but she couldn't seem to move fast enough. Lupescu has already begun speaking some incantation. Ginny's mind raced, trying to think of the fastest spell she knew. She wasn't fast enough, though. Before she could open her mouth, a blinding light burst forth from behind Harry. The look of shock and confusion in Harry's eyes was the last thing she saw before her vision was flooded with the amazingly bright yellowish light.

The flash of light was more than any spell she'd seen before. It was painfully bright, and Ginny stumbled about for a moment, trying to blink the spots from her eyes. She felt herself strike one of the walls and leaned against it to try and get her bearings. She saw flashes of light and spinning shapes everywhere. At first, she thought she could see Lupescu's silhouette, but it seemed to split and swirl into two different shapes. Then suddenly there were three. She held her wand out in front of her, waiting for her vision to return so she could hex the first person she saw.

She closed her eyes and covered them with her hand. The shapes were still dancing, but now they were darker. She opened her eyes and found that she could see the blurry glow of the torches along the darker walls. Suddenly the light from one of the nearby torches was eclipsed. One of the shapes was walking toward her.

"Stay away from me!" she shouted. "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

At the last second, a hand had latched onto her wrist and wrenched her arm down and to the side, sending the curse into the floor.

"Relax, Ginny!" a familiar voice said. "You're safe."

"Hermione?" Ginny coughed. "Where— How did you— Harry! What happened to Harry?"

"I'm alright," Harry said weakly. Ginny turned her head toward the source of the voice but she couldn't see much more than a large dark blob where the floor should have been. Then part of the blob elongated into a tall dark shape. Harry. Ginny launched herself at him and was rewarded with the comforting feel of his arms wrapped around her.

"Nobody panic," Hermione announced. "We've still got a conscious Romanian." A few seconds later, Ginny heard Hermione stun Lupescu. Ginny saw a darker shape moving back toward her. "Is everyone alright?"

"I think so," Ginny answered. "I still can't see very well, but it's getting better." The dark shapes were slowly coming into focus. She felt as though she could almost see well enough to walk.

"How about you Harry?"

"Vision's a bit spotty, but not bad beyond that," he replied. "How did you know we were here?"

"It was a lucky guess," Hermione said flatly. "Why don't we step into my office? That's where you've been trying to go all morning, isn't it? Is there some reason for that?"

Harry let go of Ginny and wrapped one arm around her shoulders instead. "Well, I assumed we'd end up waiting for you. I know how much you love books, so I figured you must have something interesting to read," he said with a trace of sarcasm.

"Come on, then," Hermione replied with frustration. "Let's get you something to read."

Harry helped Ginny walk the short distance to the small alcove they had been hiding in earlier. Hermione opened the door for them and the three of them slipped through the doorway. Once inside, Harry began rummaging through his robe pockets. Ginny squinted into the dimly lit room and found the fuzzy shape of a chair. She stumbled toward it and sat down. The moment her back touched the chair a wave of pain and heat exploded from the point of contact. The Shield Cloak hadn't been able to fully block Lupescu's curse, but at least it kept her alive and conscious. She could deal with the pain. She could fight through pain, but without her vision, she would be useless.

"Here," Harry said softly, "Drink this —and, er, this one, too." Ginny felt him put a pair of small vials into her hand. She squinted at them but couldn't see nearly well enough to read the labels.

"What are they?" she asked.

"Doxy venom and Flobberworm gravy," he answered with obvious sarcasm. "Just drink them." Ginny held them close to her eyes, but she still couldn't make out the script on the tiny vials.

Harry sighed in frustration. "It's a Quick Healing potion and a Pepper-Up Potion. Together they should let you see a little better."

Ginny quickly pulled the corks on both of the vials and drank them at the same time. Between the pain shooting down her arm from her burnt hand and throbbing pain from her back, she didn't even care about the taste. A gentle boiling sensation filled her stomach then traveled up her chest until she felt steam shooting out of her ears. When it passed, she opened her eyes and found the room in sharp focus, though everything still felt a little brighter than it should be.

"Are you done, now?" Hermione asked in a voice filled with frustration. "Did you want to take some time for morning tea, or are you going to tell me why you're so bloody eager to come here when I _told_ you they were watching this place."

"I told you already," Harry said as he stood up. "I was looking for something to read."

Hermione glared at him. "Now is hardly the time for jokes, Harry. This whole level is crawling with wizards right now. The Brotherhood is here now, too. But you expected that, didn't you, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry answered flatly.

"You didn't set up the decoy at Gringott's so you could sneak in. You could have done that this morning. You set it up to make the Brotherhood attack there first. You didn't need the distraction, you needed the _time_. You needed to keep them busy while you did something else. This what you really wanted?" she asked as she slapped something heavy down on her desk. She lifted her hand to reveal a talisman consisting of a single golden ring passing through three silver spheres.

"Is that all you came for?" Hermione asked sharply. "You walked into the biggest trap you could find in order to steal something you could have found on any of the Brotherhood wizards."

"They know I'm collecting the talismans," Harry replied. "They've stopped wearing them."

"They only stopped wearing them today," Hermione told him. "They're not here to stop you from getting Charlie's ring. They're useless. They don't _do_ anything. They don't care if you have one. You don't need it. It was nothing more than a story you could tell us to make us help you. You never wanted the ring. You _lied_ to us, Harry."

"It wasn't a lie," Harry said firmly. "I did come for the ring. It—"

"You're _lying_!" Hermione cried. "You came here for the wand, didn't you? You did something with it. You stole it but you never took it with you. You wanted it for yourself, but not as much as you wanted to make sure that Grigore never got it. Why do you want it? Do you think that you'll be more powerful with both wands? Or are you afraid of it? It's the brother to your wand. It would be the only wand that could stop you, no matter how powerful you became."

Harry stepped away from her. "Listen to what you're saying, Hermione."

"_I am listening._ Since the moment you Apparated onto Grimmauld Place I've been waiting for you to give me some explanation for why you're doing any of this. There's too much you're not telling us. Why do you want the wand? Why does everyone say you're dangerous, if you haven't done anything yet? Why did you join the Brotherhood and what made you run away?"

In a single smooth movement, Harry raised his wand and pointed at Hermione. Her jaw dropped in shock and she glared at him with a betrayed expression, but Harry was unmoved.

"Check her, Ginny," he commanded.

Ginny blinked her eyes a few times, wishing that this was some bizarre dream and that she might wake up and find herself on the cold floor of some battle-scarred corridor. When that didn't happen, she stood up and walked across the room.

Hermione was standing completely still with her eyes locked firmly on Harry. Ginny gently pulled down the fabric which covered the back of Hermione's robes. She was already turning to tell Harry that she hadn't found anything when she felt a strand of metal pressing against the tip of her finger. Her stomach tightened into a ball as she slowly pulled the chain out from under Hermione's robes. At the end of the loop, she found another golden ring talisman.

The moment she saw it, she dropped it as if it would burn her. She pulled her wand and aimed it directly at Hermione's head. "She's another impostor, Harry!" she called out.

"No. She's not," Harry replied. "This is the real Hermione." He dropped his wand and collapsed into the chair in front of Hermione's desk. He stared up at her with a dead look in his eyes. "What did he tell you? Did he say that Ginny was in danger? Or Ron? Did he tell you that he needed your help to save them?"

Hermione kept staring back. "He said that someone was trying to trick Ginny. He said they had been corrupted, and that they were using her to try and gain even more power than Voldemort had."

"_You_ were the one being lied to," Harry said. "Grigore is trying to use you just like he used Henri D'Anneau."

"I want to believe you, Harry," she told him. "I know that I can't trust him, but after all the lies and secrets I don't know if I can trust you right now, either. If you would have told me that you needed to find Voldemort's wand, I would have helped you without any questions. Why couldn't you trust us?"

"I _do_ trust you," he replied. "It's Reynard and Scrimgeour that I don't trust. Scrimgeour doesn't have a war to fight anymore. Everyone is going to start seeing how selfish and manipulative he is. That is, if Reynard hasn't overthrown him by then. Don't forget that you work for him. If I had told you why I needed to come here, there was always a chance that he would find out. I couldn't risk that,"

"So you _are_ here for Voldemort's wand," Hermione stated, though it sounded more like a question.

Harry nodded.

"And it's somewhere nearby?"

"Yes," he answered. "That alone should prove that what they told you about me was wrong. I didn't come here that day to take the wand for myself. I came to keep it safe. The Death Eaters can't have it. Everyone agrees on that. It would only encourage them to even more violent measures. I can't trust Grigore with it. He's likely to sell it to the Death Eaters for some favor. And I don't trust Reynard with it, either. He couldn't stop us from taking it the first time, and even if he could, he and Grigore are too friendly for me to feel it would be safe in his hands."

"So why not simply destroy it?" she asked. "If you truly didn't want it and didn't trust anyone else with it, why not incinerate it and be done with this whole business?"

"Voldemort is dead. His soul was shattered and destroyed. He has no more life to return to. His wand is all that is left, and yet the Death Eaters still believe they can resurrect him," Harry explained. "Why would they believe me if I simply _told_ them I had destroyed it? Would they believe me if only a couple of them saw it? So long as it exists, they have something to chase after. If it were destroyed, there would be nothing that you or I could do to convince them that it no longer existed."

"So you hid it?" Hermione remarked incredulously.

"I put it somewhere safe," he corrected. "I put it in the last place anyone would think to look, and I trusted the only people who would ever stumble across it."

"Then why come looking for it?" she countered. "If it's hidden so well, why is the Brotherhood here looking for it?"

"Because I put in the last place anyone would look, and they've looked almost every other place. I don't think Grigore ever thought about it until yesterday," he explained. "I would never have put the wand anywhere near Ginny. It was too much of a risk. It wouldn't be safe at Gringott's, and I couldn't endanger all the students at Hogwarts with it. The Ministry was the only place secure enough to keep it safe, but that wasn't enough so long as everyone knew it was there."

"Oh my god," Hermione gasped as she stared at him. "You never really took it, did you? You wanted to come back here because the wand never left this room, did it?"

"If I would have been caught, the only thing I had to bargain with was the fact that I _didn't_ have the wand," Harry said with a faint smile.

"Where is it?"

"I had to put it someplace where you wouldn't find it," he said almost apologetically. "I don't want you to take this personally."

Hermione only glared at him. "_Where is it?_"

Harry stood up and walked over to the small hollow between Hermione's desk and the large oak wardrobe. He reached down and picked up a large book with a rounded spine. Ginny recognized it as Harry set it down on the desk. It was _Fanciful Flying for Frightening Situations_, one of the books Ron had given her.

The realization of what Harry had done struck her as he opened the book. Many of the pages were still sticking together in large clumps. Of course Hermione had never read it. She had barely touched it. After the book was open, Harry reached into the small space between the spine and the page binding, and pulled out a wand made of dark wood. Slowly, he turned and offered it to Hermione.

"I don't know how you want to explain this to Ron," Harry said softly. "If you don't trust me, then you can take the wand yourself. All I ask is that you don't give it to Grigore Tarus or the Death Eaters. That is all I ever wanted."

Hermione stared at the wand for a moment, then looked up at Harry, then dropped her eyes back to the wand. "I don't want it," she said. "The Brotherhood will know what I've done. It wouldn't be safe with me."

"Alright," Harry said with a slight nod. He slipped the wand into a pocket inside his robes, then took the talisman from the desk and dropped it into the same pocket.

He looked down at his watch. "The good news is that we're still right on schedule. The problem would be that my schedule assumed that we'd be able to wait here until a minute or two before Ron came down for us. I had hoped that it would be some time before the alarms were raised. Then when the new shift of guards showed up, we were going to slip past them in the confusion. That plan would have given us another twenty minutes to wait. I don't think we have half that time until Reynard or the Brotherhood realize where we are."

"Well, we can break into another one of the offices and wait there," Hermione proposed. "They're not going to check them all."

"If they can't find us for twenty minutes, they'll seal off the level," Harry announced. "We either need to create some sort of diversion or find some other way out. Of course, if we find some other way out, we've got to find a way to get word to Ron before he charges into the trap we're setting."

"I could send him a memo when we find a way out," suggested Hermione. "Well, I suppose I'd have to send it to the guard, but all it would only have to tell him to go back to Gringott's."

"Hold on," Ginny said. Somehow, they had overlooked a much simpler solution. "If we can send a memo to Ron, why don't we just ask him to come get us right now? Whatever he's got planned, it couldn't take all that long."

Harry and Hermione stared at Ginny for a few seconds, then turned and stared at each other. "Do it," Harry said.

Hermione sat down at her desk at began scratching out a note to the guard in the Entrance Hall. Ginny stood behind her, reading the note over her shoulder. It didn't need to be much, as Hermione had said. She simply told him to pass on a message to Ron saying that she needed to speak with him immediately. No matter what happened, it couldn't put them in any worse of a situation than they were in at the moment. Hermione signed her name to it, since Ginny's name already carried a sufficient amount of suspicion with it.

When she was finished, she tapped it sharply with her wand and the parchment leaped off her desk, folded itself several times and flapped off toward the door. When it reached the door, it flattened itself and slipped under the crack above the floor.

"How long do we wait now?" Ginny asked.

She was answered by a pair of sharp knocks on the door. Harry's head jerked around to stare at it. Ginny felt her heart pounding in her chest. Now they were stuck in the one place Harry had been trying to avoid. None of them moved. They stayed frozen in place, as though whoever had knocked might go away if no one answered the door.

"Harry," called out a firm voice, "we need to talk."

Harry stood up and whispered, "Dragomir." He walked toward the door and gestured for Ginny and Hermione to hide along the wall near the door where they couldn't be seen. Ignoring the growing pain in her hand, Ginny gripped her wand tightly and strode toward the wall. She suppressed a gasp of pain as her back pressed against a large wooden bookcase.

Once they were hidden from view, Harry walked to the door and opened it a few inches, just wide enough for Ginny and Hermione to overhear what was being said. "If you're here to borrow sugar, I'm afraid I'm fresh out," Harry remarked.

"I'm in no mood for jokes, Harry," Dragomir replied. "Two men died last night. One of them was trying to help you."

"I'd probably be more apologetic if your friends hadn't killed one of my friends."

"That was a most regrettable situation," Dragomir apologized. "We did everything we could, but we are not powerful enough to stand up to Grigore. You didn't have to set up the diversion. It was a useless feint. You could have trusted us to slow the others down."

"That's just the thing, though," Harry argued, "I _can't_ trust you. I don't know what you're up to, and you refuse to help _me_."

"Enough, Harry," Dragomir growled. "Is _she_ in there?"

"Yes, Hermione is with me."

"I don't care about her. Is Ginny with you?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

"And the wand? You've got it with you now?"

Harry paused a moment before answering. "Yes. I have it."

"Then you need to leave as quickly as you can," Dragomir told him.

"An amazing idea," grunted Harry. "Are you two going to escort us?"

"You know we can't do that, but if you give me the wand I'll see what we can do. Perhaps a battle in the Hall of Prophecies would—"

"No," Harry answered sharply. "I'm keeping the wand."

Ginny could hear the frustration in Dragomir's voice. "Harry, please. Even the smallest token of trust—"

"I said no, Dragomir," Harry interrupted. "Did you stop the memo?"

"No," the other wizard said defeatedly.

"Then we won't be needing your help," Harry shot back. "Tell any of your friends to stay out of my way and everything will be fine." Dragomir didn't respond for quite some time. Harry remained at the door staring through the opening until a response finally came.

"Alright," Dragomir sighed. "There are two pairs of guards between here and the lifts. We took care of the others. If you're ready to go now, we'll see that no one stumbles across your path. "

"That's very kind of you."

"I am not your enemy, Harry," said Dragomir. "I have put quite a lot of trust in you. Many of us have. It would make things much easier if you would show some sign that our trust is not misplaced."

"You may not be my enemy, but you're not my ally either," Harry replied, sounding almost threatening. "If you want proof that you can trust me, then you're just going to have to live with disappointment. You can't trust me. I _will_ stop Grigore. So long as you're not trying to stop me, you can trust that I won't turn on you, but when Grigore is gone, don't expect me to ignore everything you've done."

"If that is how it must be," Dragomir said disappointedly. "We have argued quite enough. When will you be able to escape?"

"As soon as you leave," Harry answered.

"I wish you luck, then. Give Andros and me some time to get clear of the area, then leave as quickly as you can."

Harry closed the door and looked over to where Ginny and Hermione were standing. The expression on his face was uncertain and yet stoic, as though he were waiting for either of them to complain about how he had handled the situation. He relaxed when neither of them did.

"Where are we supposed to go after we get out of here?" Ginny asked. She hoped that Harry's passive agreement with Dragomir meant she might have some time to figure out what was going on before it had already happened.

Harry frowned at the door then turned back to Ginny and Hermione. "We go back to Gringott's. After that, I don't really know." Harry explained that he had never really been given enough time to formulate a real plan for stopping Grigore. This was mostly because he never really knew what it was that Grigore was doing. "I think I know, now," he told them.

"Well, what is it?" Ginny asked.

Harry gave Hermione a strange look. "Do you know?" he questioned her. "How long have you been a member?"

"I don't know," she said with a touch of shame. "Maybe a month. Maybe longer. I had been talking to the Brotherhood for a long time. I had been helping them find all of Voldemort's old hiding places. The Ministry won't send Aurors outside Britain. The Brotherhood doesn't really care about borders. I didn't meet Josef until a few days before Ginny went to Giza."

"It was Josef?" Harry remarked. Ginny caught a tense twitch in his eye as she said the name.

"Yes. He told me what I'd really been helping him with. He said they were trying to stop a terrible wizard —not a dark wizard, though. He said that it was something much worse and that Ginny was in danger."

"And you decided to join them?" Harry asked, letting a little anger escape into his voice. "You work for the Department of Mysteries! How could you not know about what they were doing? How could you not know they were responsible for Giza?"

"I never said I didn't know," Hermione argued. "What was I supposed to do, Harry? I'm not blind. I can see what Reynard is trying to do. I've spent days tracking the Death Eaters despite being ordered not to. I know what they're trying to do. I knew the Brotherhood had done some horrible things, too, but they've done good things as well. I knew Grigore was up to something, but I didn't know he was their leader. I thought they were trying to stop him. By the time I realized what they really stood for, it was too late. All I could do was try to keep Ginny away from them. I was trying to help, Harry, I swear."

"Well, now's your chance to really help," Harry said with a little bitterness. "Did Grigore tell you why he's interested in Ginny?"

"I didn't even know he was involved until he found me while I was in Albania. I only knew a small number of the other members. I have no idea why he's interested in her. Maybe it's only because you're interested in her and he's convinced that you're evil? I don't know. When Josef found me Saturday morning, he only told me that Ginny was in grave danger and that I should do whatever I could to keep her safe."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh and stared at Hermione. "Fine," he said flatly. "We need to get going."

"Hold on," Ginny complained. "You're not going to tell us why I'm in danger?"

"I will, but not here," he said as he pulled another Shield Cloak from his bag and tossed it to Hermione. "You might want to replace yours as well, Ginny. It's time for us to get out of here."

Ginny groaned in frustration, did as Harry suggested, and stuffed the old cloak into her bag. Harry opened the door a crack and checked the corridor. After a few seconds, he opened it wider and led them out into the empty passage.

Now that the battle was over, the scene in the corridor seemed much more disturbing to her. Unconscious bodies were lying everywhere. They stepped over them, making their way past the side passage and along the much less cluttered corridor, which would lead them back to the lifts.

Just past the two staircases leading to the upper level offices, they reached a corner and stopped abruptly. Harry leaned against the wall and gestured to Hermione and Ginny to stay back. Ginny guessed that they had found the first pair of guards.

Hermione leaned across Ginny to tap Harry on the shoulder. "I'll take the first one if you two can handle the second," she whispered. After a moment of consideration, Harry nodded. Hermione stood up straight and tidied her robes. She took a deep breath and then strode around the corner with a brisk, purposeful gait.

"Stop!" one of the guards shouted. "I'm sorry Miss Granger, but this area is off limits. You need to go back to your office."

"My office?" she scoffed. "You haven't seen my office, have you? The corridor is filled with bodies. I'm not going back there."

"Well, er... I suppose you should report to Reynard's office, then. He'll make sure—"

"_Stupefy!_" shouted Hermione.

Before the body had even hit the floor, Harry was spinning around the corner with his wand raised. Ginny dashed after him. She turned the corner and found Harry firing off a hex at the remaining guard. To her horror, it simply bounced off his cloak. Before she or Harry could comprehend what has just happened, there was a bright flash of light and a fountain of sparks as a hex struck Hermione in the chest and knocked her backward into Harry.

Together, they crashed to the floor and Harry's wand skittered off down the hallway. Without a thought, Ginny found herself aiming her wand. Apparently, the Ministry still had a few Shield Cloaks. Luckily, she knew the manufacturers.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Shield Cloaks didn't help against spells like that, and within a second, the wizard's wand was sliding across the floor toward her feet. They stared at each other for a brief moment, before Ginny aimed her wand again.

"_Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!_"

The first two beams bounced off her target uselessly but the third dropped him to the floor immediately. Ginny picked up his wand and then helped a thankful Harry and Hermione back to their feet. Now all they had to do was take one of the lifts to the Atrium and make it past the gate to the Entrance Hall. It sounded so simple, and yet she remembered the scene from the Spectrecorder. She hoped that Ron had received the message and that he had some brilliant plan to help them.

They moved quickly along the wider passage, up the stairs until they came to the last corner between them and the lifts. The three of them stopped just short of the corner.

"What do we do now?" whispered Ginny. "How do we know when Ron is coming?"

Harry simply held up his finger, indicating that she should be silent for the time being. Ginny frowned, but did as he asked. She understood a moment later as her ears picked up the sound of a number of wizards arguing.

Her first reaction was outrage at Dragomir and Andros for lying to Harry. Then, as she listened closer, she got a better idea of what was going on. Some of the wizards were Aurors. They were arguing about something happening in the Entrance Hall. Ginny turned to look at Hermione and found a proud smile stretching across her face.

"They're having problems in the Entrance Hall," Harry whispered. He was smiling, too. "I can't quite make it out, but it seems that none of the Aurors can make it into the Entrance Hall. I don't know how long we should—"

Harry paused as new shouts echoed down the corridor. "Come on," he said. "I think that was our signal."

Ginny followed Harry and Hermione as they ran out into the corridor. She looked down the hallway to the small room where the lifts were and found something that was difficult to describe. There were two guards and three Aurors standing and staring at one of the lifts. It was open, and some sort of black fog was spilling out of it and filling the room.

Ginny immediately remembered the black mist she had seen behind the veil in Romania and paused. Harry didn't seem to be bothered by it at all. He stopped a second later to stun one of the Aurors. Hermione took his lead and did the same to one of the guards.

The remaining wizards scattered, uncertain whether they should be more afraid of the escaping thieves or the mysterious black smoke pouring from the lift. The guard decided to run from the smoke, while the Aurors tried to seek some shelter from another pair of hexes from Harry and Hermione.

Ginny took aim at the guard, and shouted, "_Stupefy!_" He collapsed and rolled across the stone floor. One of the Aurors aimed a hex at her, but it missed. Ginny aimed her wand, then nearly dropped it in shock as a bolt of light struck the Auror making his arms and legs stiffen as he toppled over.

Harry, Hermione and Ginny all shared surprised and confused looks. When Ginny turned back to the black cloud, the last Auror had turned to it as well, obviously deciding that it was the greater threat. He fired a curse into the dark fog, but nothing happened. He tried another with the same effect, but the moment he tried the third, a tall figure strode through the swirling haze.

Ron leveled his wand at the incredulous Auror and shouted, "_Somnus!_" After the Auror collapsed, he looked over toward Ginny and the others. "Come on," he called out, "I don't know how long it's going to take them to figure out how to get rid of this."

Ginny, Harry, and Hermione quickly ran the last distance to the lifts, stopping as the fog swirled about their legs. Hermione kneeled down and ran her hand through it. "Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder?" she asked.

Ron nodded. "At first, I had brought it as a last resort. When I got your message, I figured it meant that it was time for desperate measures. I didn't expect it to come with me in the lift," he said with a nod behind him. "It was bloody useful though. It's filled the whole lift area in the Atrium Level. I think I stunned six or more Aurors from inside it before I came down here."

Ginny looked at the other lift doors and tried to guess where she'd find the darkened one. As she walked forward, the world was suddenly blotted out around her. A few steps later, her left hand struck something cold: a metal grate. She stepped into the lift, but tripped over something soft and heavy on the floor. "There's something on the floor," she called out. "Watch your feet. I'll see if I can move it out—"

"No!" Ron cried. "It's my bag!" Ginny felt him slam into her. "Keep the grate open!" he said from somewhere beneath her. Ginny reached out and caught the grate, which was already starting to close. The moment she touched it, it began to open again. "I should have said something about that," Ron said, now from someplace above her and to one side.

After gathering everyone into the lift and verifying everyone's location, Ron let the lift close and begin the ascent. Ginny searched for the wall behind her, making sure to keep her throbbing back well away from it. After a short time, she felt the lift stop moving, and heard the sound of the grate open.

"The trick is to not forget what direction you were traveling in," Ron whispered. "Now everyone hold someone else's hand and follow me. Ginny felt someone's hand wrap tightly around hers and smiled as she recognized it as the feel of Harry's hand. "Watch your step as we go," Ron whispered. "There are stunned Aurors lying about. We should come out of this just before the gate. I hit the Entrance Hall with some of the powder as well, but there should be a small patch of light somewhere between here and there. It'll be easier to Disapparate there."

Ginny felt Harry's hand tugging at hers and she began walking to keep up with him. She tried to remember just how far it was from the lifts to the gate. She'd walked it many times, but in the impenetrable dark it felt like she must have walked that distance twice already.

She heard Harry stumble ahead of her, and she felt someone's leg on the ground where she had planned on stepping. She tried hopping over it, but found that she had actually managed to hop right on top of the poor man's body. Her knee buckled, and she tumbled onto the ground. As she fell, her hand was wrenched from Harry's grip.

"Ron, stop!" she called out as she tried to stand up again. A voice answered, but it was not Ron.

"Ginny Weasley!"

Ginny recognized Harrington's voice immediately, but didn't know just how to respond. Why was he there? If she talked to him, he would know that she was one of the people who had robbed the Department of Mysteries. Of course, he probably already knew that if he was here.

"Come out, Ginny," he called. "Walk toward my voice. I'm standing in front of the gate. There's no way you can get past me. And please don't fight. You've created quite enough trouble for yourself already. Don't make it worse than it needs to be."

"It's not what it looks like," Ginny replied as her mind tried to anticipate all the things Harrington might say.

"Then explain it to me!" he shouted back.

Ginny began walking toward the sound of his voice. She heard Harry swearing under his breath and calling for her to stay where she was, but she ignored them. Harrington wasn't the sort of man who would lie. If he said that he was guarding the gate, then he was. Perhaps she could reason with him, or lie to him, or —if it came to that— hit him with a curse.

"We came for something of Charlie's," she told him. "It belonged to Charlie, and now it belongs to my family. We haven't stolen anything."

Behind her, she heard Harry, Hermione and Ron whispering emphatically. It seemed as though some of them were following her.

"I'm not interested in that, Ginny," he replied. "I'm worried about you. I've been doing some research of my own. I'm afraid of what you might be getting yourself involved in."

The darkness around her melted away quickly revealing Ferdinand Harrington standing right where he said he had been: in the middle of the path through the gate. What he'd neglected to mention was the pair of Aurors flanking him. They had their wands drawn and pointed at her.

Harrington was staring at her with a desperate intensity. "Come here quickly, Ginny," he urged her. "More Aurors are coming. I can keep you safe. We'll find a way to keep you out of this. Come with me, now. Let the Aurors handle them."

Ginny stood and stared back at him. "No. I'm staying with them."

"They're using you, Ginny. Don't let them frighten you," he begged. "Josef is not the wizard you think he is. He and the others do not care about you. They only care about what they can get by manipulating you. Please. Don't let them deceive you. I'm here to help you."

Ginny looked at Harrington and then the Aurors. He was right, for the most part, but he didn't know that she wasn't with the Brotherhood. She couldn't very well tell him that Harry Potter was standing behind her.

"Please Ginny," he begged. "I don't want to have to resort to hexes, but I will if I have to. For your own sake, I can't let you leave the Ministry."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," she replied. Her wand flashed out quicker than she realized it could, and before anyone could react, she had stunned one of the Aurors. She dodged the other one's hex and raised her arm to fire another hex only to find that her wand was leaping out of her hand. She watched in frustration as Harrington caught it and held it in his left hand.

"Ginny!" she heard Ron shout. "What's happening?"

"There is an Auror," she called back. "And Harrington has my wand."

"You must listen to me, Ginny," he persisted. "Josef is up to something. Tarus, too, though I don't even know if they're working for the same goal. They're all selfish and power-hungry. He'll turn on you as soon as you stop being useful. Help me stop him. Help me stop Reynard and his thugs. It won't be easy but we've got to try.

"_Incarcerous!_"

Ginny's head jerked to the side and watched as loops of cord shot at the second Auror. They wrapped tightly around him and bound him to the golden grate to the side of the security gate. A second later, Harry stepped out of the murky darkness, followed by Hermione and Ron.

Harrington stared at the four of them with surprise, but his amazement upon seeing Harry was nearly humorous. He looked down at Ginny's wand in his hand and then back at Harry.

"We know about Tarus and Josef," Harry said. "We're going to go stop them, but we can't do it this way. If you're truly worried about Ginny's safety, you need let her go with me."

"It— No— It can't be you," Harrington stammered. "How could you be alive all this time and tell no one?"

"It was necessary," Harry offered in explanation. "And it still is necessary. If we stay here, then we lose every advantage I've worked for months to obtain. If I reveal myself to everyone, the Brotherhood will retaliate. If you want to help, you need to let us go."

Harrington looked back down at Ginny's wand. Slowly, he offered it back to her. Carefully, she reached out for it and took it from his hand gently. Harrington then turned to stare at Harry and the others. The concerned look in his eyes fell away, and he turned back to Ginny.

"It seems that you've been doing fine despite everything I've done to try and help you. I suppose I need to have some trust in you," he said. His expression became slightly more melancholy, but the speed of his voice picked up. "I can't guarantee you any protection," he said. "I will do what I can to salvage your career. Just know that once you walk though that gate, you're beyond any help I can give you."

"I know," Ginny told him.

Harrington nodded and then raised his wand, making Harry flinch. Harrington gave a quick smile and then turned the tip of it toward himself.

'What are you doing?" Ginny asked anxiously.

"The Aurors know why I'm here," he said. "If they found out that you escaped while I could still fight, they would haul me into a courtroom and send me to Azkaban for the rest of my life. This way I have an excuse and if they check my wand, it will only confirm my story."

Then he closed his eyes, and shouted, "_Stupefy!_"

His unconscious body crumpled to the floor, sending his wand rolling across the polished floors. Ginny stood where she was, watching him and wondering just how he could have changed so much in just a few months.

"Come on," Harry reminded them all. "We need to go. Everyone meet at the flat in Gringott's. We've still got a lot of work to do." They quickly stepped through the gate, and Disapparated.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Another chapter down. leaving only four chapters left in this part of the trilogy. We're slowly learning what everyone is actually like and who they really care about. It's all spiralling toward some end, and its not far off now.


	22. Back to the Burrow

**CHAPTER 22**

**Back to the Burrow**

* * *

For Ginny, the pain from crushing pressure of Apparation had spiraled to new heights. She forced herself to concentrate on nothing other than the flat at Gringott's. Every instant since the Ministry had disappeared felt like an hour of agony. She couldn't breathe. Every inch of her skin felt hot, but not nearly hot enough to compete with the slicing pain shooting through her ribs and up her spine from the spot where Lupescu's curse had struck her. 

In a flash, the pressure disappeared and she felt her feet on a stone floor. Her whole body felt numb. She blinked her eyes and tried to find Harry and the others. She could hear them, but her vision had gone hazy again. Unlike earlier when everything was blindingly bright, the world about her was now dark and hazy. She reached up to rub her eyes and was struck by a wave of nausea. The world lurched to one side, then turned back toward the other.

She stumbled forward, reaching out for the shadow of something large and hopefully sturdy. She felt a growing heat spreading from the small of her back. She knew something was wrong, but it took every bit of concentration to keep herself on her feet. After a single unsteady step forward, she felt her hands strike the back of a wooden chair.

The room swung around, paused for a second and then spun back in the opposite direction. Ginny clutched at the chair, but it detached itself from the floor immediately. She felt weightless, and then the world flopped onto its side.

The ear-splitting crash of the chair against stone was the only warning she got. Only a fraction of a second later, she felt the cool floor slam into her. The world darkened as a bolt of pain stabbed into her back.

A bright spot brought her mind back to the present. It grew until she felt that she could almost make out her surroundings. She could hear the voices shouting, but they were nothing more than shadows flitting between the brightly colored spots in her vision. She heard someone say the words "to the couch" but she couldn't identify the voice.

A pair of strong arms picked her up by the shoulders. The world tilted around her and she suddenly felt herself standing up. Her legs moved instinctually. She didn't know just why they were walking; she only hoped that they were taking her away from the pain. Then, as quickly as it had righted itself, the room spun and she felt herself falling again.

The cushions on the couch were made of fine silks stuffed with the best goose down in Europe, but to Ginny they felt more like jagged spears stabbing into her back. The pain was immense and inescapable. The world around her snapped into sharp focus. She could feel every muscle in her body tense as her back arched and her arms flailed in a useless attempt to escape the pain.

There were more shouts, but they were all blending together into a shrill ringing in her ears. Her muscles twitched and then gave out. As she fell back to the cushions a second wave of pain struck her and the world swirled away into blackness

* * *

"I don't know what's wrong!" Harry shouted. 

"Maybe you would if you had been paying any attention to her," Ron shouted back. "Why did you toss her on the couch?"

"Because she fainted. What was I supposed to do? Leave her on the floor?"

"At least she wasn't screaming there."

"Shut up, both of you!" Hermione yelled. "She screamed when you laid her on her back. Did anything happen to her back while you were fighting?"

"Razvan hit her with some curse in the back, but her Cloak stopped it," Harry replied. "She got right back up, I swear."

"A wizard had his wand pointed at your head, Harry," Hermione reminded him sharply. "She would have gotten back up even if someone had cut off her left leg." Hermione dropped to Ginny's side and pressed a hand against her neck. "She's overheating. Shield Cloaks don't stop everything, Harry. You know that. Quick, someone help me turn her over."

Ron and Harry jumped forward and helped Hermione roll Ginny onto her stomach so that her head was hanging just off the edge of the couch. Her cheeks were a sickly pale and sporadically spotted with darker red patches. Harry waited for her breathing to become more relaxed, then strode off toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Ron called out.

"The curse hit her Shield Cloak. I _saw_ it," he told them. "Even if it hadn't, they would never risk seriously injuring her. Whatever happened, it can't be much more than burns and bruises."

"This doesn't look like the result of a deflected spell, Harry. Ginny's been hit by plenty of spells in these cloaks and she's never fainted from the pain," challenged Hermione.

"Well, it must have been a lucky shot, or an injury from all the debris." He turned away and opened the door. "You two can stay here and hope that the pain goes away. I'm going to get some potions to actually stop it."

Harry walked off and let the door close behind him. The goblins had to have something that would help Ginny. Even a bottle of Pollywinkles Pain Purge should be enough. Of course, if Hermione was right and the spell got through the cloak, it could be almost anything. Maybe the Shield Cloak was defective? He allowed himself to entertain the idea despite the fact that he'd never actually seen any of Fred and George's cloaks fail to work.

He replayed the scene in his head again. It was possible that she had broken a rib or even cut herself on some of the stone debris. The spell had hit her rather hard, but it couldn't have done much damage, could it? If they used any spell that could break through the Shield Cloak they would be risking Ginny's life.

A sudden, horrible thought hit him. The Brotherhood would never risk her life. Grigore didn't want that and neither did Josef and Dragomir. The Brotherhood didn't want her dead, but they might have wanted her disabled. They would want to make sure that she lived, but didn't escape. That way, Grigore could take her and use her as bait for Harry even if he had found a way to escape without her.

And all of the best Brotherhood wizards knew how to disable a wizard wearing a Shield Cloak. A properly cast Cremation Curse was strong enough to break through Shield Charms and any of the Shield gear that Fred and George made. Used correctly it was useful for dealing with the poisonous corpses of some of the nastier creatures. Used against the living, it was fairly dark magic. When partially blocked as it would be by the weaker shield provided by Ginny's cloak, it would leave a smoldering wound that would continue burning until the victim was healed or died. The pain was intense enough that it would incapacitate a shielded wizard in a few minutes.

And Harry was certain that Razvan knew how to cast that curse. He knew it because he himself had taught Razvan and the others just how to do it.

He knew he was right. They had meant for Ginny to be the bait in the trap yet again. This time, however, he had managed to escape with the bait. Now that he knew what the problem was, he was certain he could fix it. Any of a small number of potions would work, and a few magical items could help with the pain. He just had to find them.

Ten minutes later, Harry returned to the flat, feeling both horribly guilty and terribly frustrated. The goblins had nothing to help her. They offered some incantations and a Well-Being Amulet, but he needed something that worked much faster. The sad truth was that there was nothing that worked faster —not in Gringott's at least.

"About time," Ron commented as Harry walked back into the room. Ginny hadn't moved at all while he was gone. She still looked pale but all the tension had left her face. If he hadn't known any better, he might have guessed she was simply sleeping. Perhaps she was. Between the injuries and the stress of the last week, it was easy to see why she might be exhausted. He wished he didn't have to do what he was about to do.

He walked over to her quickly. In one hand he carried pair of vials: one normal-sized one containing a deep red liquid and one that was much smaller and filled with a pale blue liquid. In the other hand he held a silver flask with a golden cap. He popped the top off both of the vials and carefully pushed her hair back from her face.

"Hold on," Ron remarked as he strode over to Harry's side. "What are those?" he asked, pointing to the vials.

Harry rolled his eyes. "This is something close to a Pepperup Potion," he answered while holding up the red vial, then pointed to the blue one, "and this is Numbing Spirits, or something pretty close."

"Harry, she's already had Pepperup Potion," warned Hermione. "You can't give her two doses in under an hour. It's dangerous."

"The last dose was diluted," he argued. "Her ears weren't smoking for more than a minute or so. This is no stronger. I just need her to be alert for twenty minutes or so."

"What she needs is a Sleeping Potion and a day or two of rest," Hermione scolded. "I should be able to make something while she sleeps and whatever you need to talk to her about can wait while she recovers."

"I'm afraid we don't have that much time," Harry replied. "The goblins don't have any healing potions that will work on burns like this, and even if they had the ingredients, the only potions that would help take hours to make."

"It's a burn? Just how do you know that?" questioned Hermione.

"Trust me."

Hermione frowned. "Well, if you're right, you can't wake her up," Hermione argued. "She'll be in just as much pain as when she passed out. That's torture, Harry."

"That's why I have this," he answered, holding up the tiny blue vial. "Once she's awake, she can take a few drops of this. It should make the pain manageable for a while."

Ron gave him a skeptical look. "The goblins had Numbing Spirits, but they didn't have any potions or salves that would heal a burn?"

Harry sighed in frustration. "This isn't a normal burn, Ron. They didn't have much of anything here. All of their curse-breakers are down in Egypt at the moment, so they keep most of their potions there and we don't have time to wait for them. The Numbing Spirits are my own. Now will you please help me?"

Ron still looked concerned. "You do know Numbing Spirits are illegal here, don't you? Constantino Alleri died last year after getting sloppy while measuring out the correct dosage. Now, I know you've improved a bit, but Harry, you've never been spectacular at Potion-making."

"I didn't make this," Harry shot back.

"Who did?" asked Hermione.

Harry sighed again and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. "I bought it off an old man in Norway named Torvi the Mixer. I haven't had any problems with any of the other potions."

"You bought it from some street vendor?" Ron cried out. "And his name was _Torvi the Mixer_? Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes, but that's not the important part," Harry continued. "We just robbed the Ministry. Hermione attacked one of the most influential members of the Brotherhood. The moment anyone comes to check on her office, they'll know that we've escaped. They know where I was hiding. _They'll come here,_" Harry stressed. "The goblins already closed the bank. Apparation is the only way out, and that's just what we need to do. I need to wake Ginny up so that we can take her someplace where we can find a potion to heal her. If we don't, then we're going to be stuck in an even larger battle right here."

Ron eyed him warily for a moment, then frowned and walked over to his side. He grabbed Ginny's shoulder and carefully turner her body so Harry could pour the Pepperup Potion into her mouth. A few seconds later, Ginny's eyelids fluttered open and steam began curling out of her ears.

Almost immediately, her eyes found Harry. "What— What happened, I—" she stammered, then paused as her jaw clenched shut. "It hurts, Harry," she said through her teeth. "The hex, it got through the Cloak."

"I know. I can't tell you how sorry I am," he whispered, "but I'm going to give you something to help with the pain. Just a few drops, though. That should be plenty."

Ginny nodded her head, closed her eyes tightly and opened her mouth. Harry pulled the stopper on the smaller vial and very slowly let three drops of the pale blue liquid drop onto Ginny's tongue. She swallowed them quickly and sat completely still as though waiting for them to begin working.

"I think it's getting better," she announced softly. "It still hurts though. How long will it take to work?"

"Er, it works almost immediately," he explained, "but it's just for the pain. You'll need something else to actually heal the wound." Harry twisted the cap off the flask and handed it to her. "Here, you'll need as much of this as you can handle," he said.

"I thought you said they didn't have any healing potions," Ron remarked.

"They don't," Harry replied over his shoulder. "This is... er... a Courage Potion of sorts," he told Ginny, "but it will also dull the pain, and it's less dangerous than the Numbing Spirits. Drink as much as you can. We can't stay here much longer."

Hermione was looking at the flask suspiciously. "Exactly what sort of Courage Potion is that?" she asked.

Harry ignored the question and watched as Ginny tilted back the flask and took a few quick gulps. After the third gulp, her eyes opened wide and her whole body convulsed. She coughed, spraying the liquid across the floor. Harry quickly grabbed the flask before it dropped from her hands. Ginny's body hung limp over the side of the couch as she coughed a few more times.

"What in the world did you give her?" Ron asked.

"Firewhiskey," Ginny said with another cough. "It's Firewhiskey."

"Harry! Firewhiskey is not a Courage Potion!" scolded Hermione.

"It is in large enough volumes," Harry responded. He gently pressed the flask back into Ginny's hand. "I know it's unpleasant, but it's better than the pain from the burn, trust me."

"I think I'd rather pass out," croaked Ginny.

"You can, after you do one more thing for me."

Ginny glared at the flask, then back at Harry. "And I need to drink this to do it? What is it?"

"I need you to Apparate to your brothers' shop."

Ginny's face fell. Without a word, she closed her eyes, put the flask to her lips and began drinking.

* * *

Harry knew it was coming. He had done it twenty times or more over the last year, and yet he still felt an unavoidable trepidation at the thought of what he was about to do. 

The world snapped into existence around him. As expected, he felt himself falling. He tried to brace himself as much as possible in the moment before he would land on the street. His back struck first, and he quickly slid to a stop. A few passing wizards gave him curious looks but walked off after shaking their heads and mumbling to themselves.

It always amazed Harry just how little it took to disguise himself. People so rarely examined the faces around them. All you had to do was change one major feature and most people wouldn't give you a second glance. Of course, he needed to hide from more than just most people. Today he had changed his hair to a pale blonde, darkened his eyeglasses, and given himself a slightly longer nose. His scar was gone as well, hidden behind a powerful Concealment Charm. He tried not to think about the fact that he had been forced to constantly seek out increasingly powerful charms to keep his scar hidden.

Before he left, he had made it very clear that his identity should remain a secret. Even Fred and George couldn't be told. The more people who knew, the greater the danger would be to all of them. He hoped he would be able to reveal himself to the Order soon. Until then, Harry would have to remain disguised. With a little luck, he'd be able to buy their trust with gold. He wasn't sure just what he'd do if that failed.

At the moment, he had other things he needed to be thinking about. He stood up and dusted himself off. Ron would be Apparating any time now. Ginny would follow after him, exactly thirty seconds after Ron arrived. If she failed to Apparate, Hermione would do it for her twenty seconds after that. Harry drew his wand and aimed it at the ground where he had landed.

"_Spongify!_"

There was no noticeable change in the dirt-covered street, but the wizards all around him avoided it nonetheless. A few seconds later, a sharp _crack_ sounded off to his right. Ron flew backward, landing within a few feet of the point Harry hand hit the ground. Unlike Harry, Ron bounced lightly, as though the street was a springy mattress instead of ancient stone.

From the instant Ron hit the street, Harry began counting off the thirty seconds until Ginny's arrival. As soon as Ron was on his feet, Harry cast the charm again, hoping he'd picked the right location. It wasn't clear in his mind whether Ginny would fly shorter or farther than he or Ron. It would have been easier if Hermione had been the second to show up. She and Ginny were about the same size. Of course, that would have left Ginny with Ron, and he'd never practiced Side-Along Apparation. _Twenty more seconds_, he reminded himself.

"Ginny's not happy," Ron warned him. "The Firewhiskey wasn't your most brilliant idea."

"I didn't really have a choice, Ron," Harry replied. "We didn't have time to brew anything, and we can't really walk into St. Mungo's, can we?"

"If you say so," Ron replied. "Still, as your friend it's my duty to warn you that her current attitude toward you is not what anyone would call caring."

Harry frowned and scanned the crowd walking along the street. "I'll live. She can be as hacked off at me as she wants once she's been healed."

"You haven't spent as much time around her as I have. I'm not worried about what she'll do once she's healed. It's what she'll do between now and then that you've got to worry about."

Harry didn't respond. _Five more seconds._ Ron had stepped to the side and already had his wand out. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't."

With an echoing _crack_ Ginny Apparated into the air in front of Harry. She flew backward just like Ron. Harry's earlier question was answered a moment later as she hit the ground a few feet beyond the point where Ron had landed. She bounced off the ground and tumbled across the street for a few more feet.

Harry and Ron ran to her side. She was lying on her side with a grimace on her face and her back arched in pain. "Are you alright?" Ron asked.

Ginny's eyes blinked open and narrowed at her brother. "_Spiffing,_" she growled. She rolled onto her hands and knees, and took a few slow deep breaths.

A passing witch had stopped to look at the three of them. When neither Harry nor Ron rushed to help Ginny up, the woman strode forward with her lips pressed tightly together. She dropped down next to Ginny and glared at Harry.

"Do you have no manners?" she snapped. "Help the poor girl up!" The woman grabbed one of Ginny's shoulders and placed her other hand on Ginny's back.

The moment her hand made contact, Ginny let out a panicked shriek. With surprising speed and agility, she twisted on the ground and batted away the arm of the helpful witch. She scrambled away and glared at the woman as if she had tried to stab her.

That was the moment that Hermione chose to Apparate onto the street. The moment Harry heard the soft _clap_, he found his wand out and pointed at the street. The charm struck the ground a fraction of a second before Hermione did. The effect, however, was not quite as reliable as it had been for the others. Instead of bouncing gently onto the firmer ground, Hermione bounced much higher, tumbling in the air. She landed some distance away and rolled into the legs of the witch who had tried to help Ginny.

The witch glared at Hermione, then the others. With a huff, she turned and walked off, shaking her head.

Ron walked over to Hermione and helped her back to her feet. Harry knelt down next to Ginny and offered her his hand. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'll help you up. Will you be alright?"

"No, I won't be alright," she snapped. "That bloody _hurt_!"

Harry grabbed her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. "Well, at least you're still conscious to feel it."

The moment he said it, he knew it had been a mistake. Ginny's eyes flashed with a sudden fury that was frightening. "I'm still conscious to feel it?" she repeated scornfully. "In what way could that possibly be a good thing?"

"That's not what I meant," Harry tried to explain. "I mean that—"

Before he could finish his weak excuse, Ginny took a quick step toward him and swung her leg, delivering a vicious kick to his shin. The response was immediate and impressive. Harry's leg buckled under agonizing pain, and he struggled to keep his balance.

Ginny was still standing in front of him, but he could barely see her through the tears in his eyes. The few details he could see didn't make him feel any better.

"At least you're still conscious to feel it," she sneered.

Harry blinked his eyes clear just in time to see her lunging for him. A pair of hands struck his chest with surprising force. He felt another brief moment of weightlessness before he crashed onto the street for the second time. Harry didn't have any chance to see the second kick coming.

Pain exploded in his shin again, and he gasped as he reached for it instinctively. When his eyes finally opened again, he could hear Ron laughing in the background. Ginny was standing over him with a scowl on her face.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked mockingly. "Here, have some Firewhiskey," she added as something hard and silver bounced off his chest. "It should dull the pain a bit." Ginny turned and walked off, mumbling, "Bloody Moron."

Harry slowly sat up and found Ron still laughing, though only silently now. Hermione seemed to be refusing to look at him at all, though at least she was trying to hide the smirk on her mouth.

Shakily, Harry rose to his feet. His shin was throbbing. He pulled the leg of his jeans up and found a trail of blood flowing from a nasty gash in his shin. He could walk on it, but not very well. It wouldn't matter. They had come there for healing potions, and Ginny knew that. He nodded to Ron and Hermione and limped off after Ginny.

She was waiting at the door of the shop and still glaring at him. As he approached, her eyes narrowed and the corners of her mouth curled into a mocking smile. "Nice hair, _Draco_," she jeered. "You should keep it that way. It reminds me of all the nights I spent at Hogwarts, dreaming about him and me snogging furiously in the back corner of the library." Before Harry could close his mouth, she yanked open the door and disappeared inside the shop. Harry blinked his eyes, trying not to think about what she'd just said.

"That's just disgusting," commented Ron. "That's not even something to joke about." He stepped toward Harry and clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't think about it too much, mate. She's just working off a little steam. I'm sure she never really had any dreams about Draco. Not good ones, anyway." With a shrug and a sympathetic smile, Ron opened the door and walked into the shop.

Hermione gave him a similar smile as she followed behind Ron. "Ginny's had a really rough month," she said apologetically. "She wasn't serious."

Harry frowned and took one last look down Diagon Alley. He knew Ron and Hermione were right. Still, they had caused more of a scene than he'd hoped. It was hardly Ginny's fault, however. She'd drank an entire flask of Firewhiskey. He wouldn't have guessed that she would still have the coordination required to successfully kick him, but she had proved him wrong.

A few wizards were still watching him, but no one who looked at all suspicious. Harry knew the Brotherhood would come looking for them, but he felt confident they wouldn't come to Fred and George's shop. They would never think he would go there. It would be too risky. Revealing himself to Ginny's family would be no different than showing himself to the entire Order. Doing that would start a war that neither Harry nor Grigore wanted to fight. However, that was perhaps the only thing that Grigore was afraid of, and Harry hoped he'd be able to use that. He turned and walked into the twins' shop.

He began slowly working his way through the crowd gathered inside the small main room. Ron and Hermione were some way ahead of him, but they had full use of both of their legs. They all seemed to be heading toward a young witch at the other end of the shop. It had been some time since Harry had been in the shop while it was open, but he recognized her as Verity, the witch the twins' had employed to help them do boring things around the shop. Her hair was longer than it had been the last time he'd seen her and she looked more confident, but it was her.

Harry caught up to Ginny, Hermione and Ron just as they finally managed to get her attention. Verity's eyes opened a little wider upon seeing the three of them standing in the shop. She didn't even look twice at Harry.

"We need to speak with Fred and George," Ginny announced flatly.

"They're in the back with Mr. Jordan," she answered slowly. "They said they shouldn't be interrupted."

"Interrupt them," Ginny ordered.

Verity gave a quick nod and slipped through the crowd toward the back room. Out of habit, Harry began scanning the faces of the other customers in the shop. As his eyes passed Ginny, he found her doing the same thing. He paused, hoping to think of something to say that might sound good as an apology. Before he could think of anything, she turned away, whipping her hair around behind her.

With the squeak of a door, a pair of red-haired wizards appeared and began walking toward them. Harry stepped closer to Ginny and slipped a bag of coins into her hand. "Have them close the shop for the day," he whispered. He looked up, hoping to see some sort of response from Ginny, but her expression was stony and she gave him no sign that she'd even noticed him.

Fred and George regarded Ron and Hermione warily. "Nice cloaks. Looks like spectacular workmanship," George commented, then turned to look at Ginny and Harry. "Four of them including the poncy bloke behind you. That's interesting considering we only gave Ginny three of them."

"Close the shop," Ginny said in a low voice.

"Are you mental?" Fred asked. "Do you know how much money we make in an afternoon?" Ginny tossed the bag of coins at him and he caught it nimbly in his left hand. The twins shared a look as Fred hefted the bag in his hand, as though he could guess the value of the coins within it by weight. He tossed it to George.

George held the bag for a moment, then frowned. "We can't take your gold, Ginny."

"It's not my gold."

"Shop's closing!" Fred shouted. "Verity! Get Lee and help escort these fine people out. We've got some urgent business which needs to be attended to."

Verity ran off to the back room and reappeared a second later with Lee Jordan following her. Together, they swept through the store nudging wizards away from the pyramid of pranks and witches away from the corner devoted to the Wonderwitch products. They all begrudgingly made their way to the door, throwing the occasional annoyed glance at the small clump of people standing around Fred and George.

The twins walked toward the door which lead to the back room, but stopped before opening it. Fred turned and glared at Harry. "You too, Limpy," he said with a nod toward the shop door. "Shove off. This is a private party."

"Lay off him, Fred," Ginny snapped. "He's the one who brought us here."

"Oh, did he? Don't tell me he carried you? He can barely walk. I'd feel sorry for him if he wasn't wearing a Cloak he never paid for."

Ginny glared at Fred. "George, open the door. We'll explain as much as we can."

George reluctantly opened the door and ushered the four of them in. Once everyone was inside, George closed the door firmly. Fred gestured for them all to remain quiet while he checked the back door and searched for any stragglers. When he had confirmed that the room was otherwise empty, he turned back to Ginny. "I get the feeling that you're the reason behind this visit, so why don't you tell me why you're here."

Harry studied Ginny's face as she answered. "We need potions. Something for burns. Maybe something else for cuts and bruises. And something for pain." She was speaking more slowly than usual, and Harry could see the muscles in her jaw clenching when she wasn't speaking. She was still in a decent amount of pain.

"That's all?" George asked.

"You just want potions?" Fred added. "No messages or supplies?"

"Just the potions," Ginny repeated. "Oh, and something for a broken leg."

"It's really not that bad," Harry tried to explain. "I don't think it's broken, it's—"

Ginny spun around and kicked him in the shin a third time, hitting the very same spot she had cut open earlier. Harry's leg gave out, and he was forced to grab onto a nearby shelf to keep himself standing. "I'll take whatever they've got," Harry said through clenched teeth.

Fred and George were frozen by their own surprise. "Bloody hell, Ginny, are you alright?"

"No, I'm not alright," she snapped. "I'm drunk and I'm tired of being used and tricked and lied to and not being told why I'm doing all the bloody things I've been forced to do. I'm tired of being attacked by everyone when they all claim they are trying to keep me safe. And right now, I'm in enough pain to last me the next four years."

"Pain?" asked George.

Harry looked over toward Ginny and realized that her face was pale again and she was beginning to look a little shaky. The Numbing Spirits must have been wearing off. There wasn't time to explain the situation to Fred and George. While Ginny tried to describe what had happened —leaving out any mention of Harry or Voldemort's wand— Harry limped across the room and crouched down in front of an old, beaten up cabinet.

"You think a curse made it _through_ the Shield Cloak?" Fred asked skeptically. "You're certain it didn't slip _under_ the cloak while you were running or crawling or something? We've done extensive testing on the Shield line, and we've never been able to do anything more than knock each other to the ground."

"It would take seriously powerful magic to go through one of those cloaks," George added. "The Aurors would never use a curse like that. No one would. It's just not worth the time. Unless you're fighting a troll or a giant or something huge and nasty, there's no point in using anything more powerful than a good Stunner."

"What if you're fighting someone who's wearing a Shield Cloak and you needed to disable them but not kill them?" Harry asked as he rummaged through jars of potions, searching for a particular shade of blue.

"Well, yeah, maybe then," admitted George, "but it's a bit of a gamble, isn't it? If you're wrong and it's just your run of the mill cloak, then instead of disabling them, you end up killing them—"

"—much like we'll do to you if you don't keep your hands out of our personal potion supply," added Fred.

"I don't have much of a choice," Harry replied. "You two don't sell the potion I need. Well, it's not a potion so much as an ointment, but I know it's here somewhere."

"If we don't sell it, how do you know we have it? The only people who could have seen the inside of that cabinet are either employees or thieves. Since I don't remember ever paying you—"

"No one has ever stolen anything from this cabinet," said Harry.

"Alright, who are you, and how could you possibly know that?"

Harry turned around long enough to flash a quick smile. "Evans," he said. "You can call me Evans."

"I don't know any wizards named Evans," George said suspiciously. "I'd know if you went to Hogwarts, and you don't look like the sort to go to Beauxbatons. So, how do you know no one has ever stolen anything from that cabinet? You'd better explain yourself while you still have a mouth to speak with."

Harry turned around to face the twins after setting aside a jar of pink, milky liquid. It was Bone Broth with some cherry flavoring to take away the bitterness. "You're going to hex me?" he asked, "For not stealing something?"

Ginny let out a sharp laugh. "You didn't take anything from _that_ cabinet. But where were the Eggsplosions?" She paused in mock thought. "Oh, right. They were over in that cabinet," she said, pointing across the room.

"Hold on!" Fred shouted. "You mean that he—"

A tense silence filled the room. Harry knew Fred and George must be staring at him. There weren't many more jars in the cabinet. One of them had to be the right position.

"Hey, you! Quit that!" one of the twins shouted. "Do you have any idea how much gold you've cost us?"

"I think I've got a rough understanding," Harry replied as he struggled to reach a pair of jars in the back corner of the cabinet.

"We work hard to create everything we sell! And you think you can just prance in whenever you like and nick it?"

"You two don't look like you're doing too badly," Harry called back. He frowned at the jar in his hands. It was a Blisterwort Antidote, and it was mostly congealed.

"And how much better would we be doing if you didn't vandalize us every other week?"

"Not as well as you'd think," Harry replied. His fingers closed around another jar. Its surface felt cold and slightly wet —exactly what he was hoping for. He pulled it out and stood up.

Fred glared at him. "Oh no. You're mental if you think we're letting you take that. That costs forty Galleons a jar!"

"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley?" interrupted a weak voice from the door. Everyone turned to find Verity's head poking into the room. "Er... I don't mean to interrupt, but is there something I should be doing?"

"No," George answered. "You should probably take the rest of the day off. We don't pay you enough for you to get involved in murder. You can send Lee in though. We might need help with the body."

Verity's eyes widened and she glanced over at Harry for a moment before looking at Ron and Hermione. When no one started laughing, her eyes opened a little wider. With a swish of blonde hair, her head disappeared and the door shut behind it.

"Alright, _Evans_," George said as he stalked toward Harry. "It's time someone started explaining why you lot are here. Be quick or you might find out whether we were joking or not."

"And while you're at it, you might want to try and explain why we shouldn't turn you into a stoat and post you to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They've been bored ever since Voldemort was—"

Something had caught Harry's attention, and it seemed to have caught Fred and George's as well. They all turned in time to see Ginny collapsing once again. As her body struck the struck the floor, she let out a shriek of pain.

"You two can kill him later," Hermione reprimanded as she crouched next to Ginny. "Right now, he might be the only one who knows what happened to her. Let him do whatever it is that he brought us here to do."

Fred and George looked at each other, then Harry. "You heard her," George said. "Go on. We can wait."

Harry strode forward to help Hermione pick Ginny up. "I need some more Firewhiskey," he said, "and I need you to cast whatever charm it is you use on the windows every night."

Fred and George glared at him but did as he told them. George left to work on the windows while Fred fetched a fresh bottle of Firewhiskey from another cabinet.

"Help her take off her cloak," Harry ordered.

While Hermione and Ron helped Ginny slowly untie and remove the cloak, Harry took out his wand and carefully levitated everything on the large table in the center of the room and set it down gently in one of the far corners.

"What do we need the table for?" Ginny asked weakly.

Harry considered telling her, but a throbbing ache in his shin made him think twice. "Here, drink more of this," he said, handing her the bottle of Firewhiskey.

"More Firewhiskey?" she asked with an uncertain expression. "Shouldn't I drink that first?" she asked, pointing to the jar in Harry's hand.

"I'm afraid not," he answered. "Drink up. This is going to hurt a bit more before it gets better."

Ginny took a big gulp from the bottle and squinted at Harry. "Why?"

"Because this isn't a potion, it's an ointment. I need to rub it into your back."

"You need to do _what_?" she shouted with sudden vigor.

"You need to take off your robes," Harry told her. Fred chose that moment to walk back into the room. Lee Jordan was following him with a shocked expression. Fred's expression was closer to one of rage.

"Oh, I see," Ginny said, her voice slurred by Firewhiskey. "This is the part where you strip me down to my underwear, tie me to the table and criticize my choice of knickers again, is it?"

"Again?" Fred and George asked in unison. "That's it," Fred said as glared at Harry, "George, get my killing wand. I don't want the Ministry to track the curse back to my usual wand."

"Oh, don't bother. He's watched me undress loads of times," Ginny explained. "At least this time he told me before he did it."

"Here, use mine," George said flatly, offering his wand to Fred.

"Enough, all of you," Hermione spoke up. "Just trust him. He's trying to help."

"Fine," Ginny agreed as she carefully unbuttoned the robes she always wore to work. She scowled at Harry. "Just do what you need to do. We can fight over who gets to kill you later."

Fred and George fumed as they watched. Lee seemed confused by the whole situation. Only Ron and Hermione seemed to be at all comfortable with what was happening.

Under her robes, Ginny wore a simple white blouse along with a pair of jeans. Harry quickly inspected the back of her robes. There weren't any noticeable marks other than a few small tears. The dark color of the robes made it impossible to tell if they'd been burnt at all. Ginny finally finished with the last button and gingerly pulled her arms out of the robes. As they dropped to the floor, Hermione let out a short gasp. Most of the lower back of Ginny's blouse was either blackened or dyed red with blood.

Harry told her to get on the table and lay on her stomach. She gave him an insulted look. "Oh, on my stomach? How nice of you. Thanks for the hint," she commented sourly. "I nearly forgot about the excruciating pain in my back." Nonetheless, she hopped up onto the table and laid across it, letting her feet hang over the edge.

Harry pulled out his wand, and slowly waved it across her back. The blouse she was wearing ripped cleanly down her spine, and he gently peeled it away from her skin. It was worse than he had expected. He had only had it happen to him once, but he had been hit in the chest and he had treated it within minutes. Ginny had been walking around for quite a bit longer than that.

It was easy to tell the spot where the curse had struck her. It was blackened and ringed with a number of nasty looking cuts. The skin farther from the center was red and crossed with ugly purple streaks. Without even touching it, Harry could feel the heat radiating from the injury.

Harry reached out to Ginny's bare shoulders. As soon as his fingers made contact her skin, she gasped and flinched from his touch. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione and Ron twitch as well. Slowly, he put his other hand on her other shoulder and began gently massaging her back and shoulders.

"Are you a Healer?" Fred asked stiffly.

"No," Harry replied distractedly.

"Then take your hands off my sister before I remove them from your arms."

"I'm trying to get her to relax," Harry said over his shoulder. "Would you rather do it?"

"I'll pass, thanks," Fred replied. "Maybe Hermione should do it." Hermione however seemed even less eager to do it than Fred and George.

"Er... I'll do it," offered Lee. "I mean, if—"

Fred and George both turned to throw a pair of withering glares at him. "You'd better keep away from her as well," George told him. "Just because this tosser thinks he can grope her doesn't mean we won't hex your hair off if you ever try anything."

Fred took a step toward Harry. "You came here to heal her not take her on a date, so stop wasting time," he said with a threatening tone. "The quicker you're done, the more likely we are to let you walk out of here."

Ginny turned her head enough to look at Harry and nod. He frowned and accepted the gesture as her permission to begin. He quickly opened the jar and scooped out a small amount of the frigid bluish paste with his fingers. "This is going to hurt at first," he whispered to Ginny. She nodded and closed her eyes.

As gently as he could, Harry began spreading the thick salve just along the edge of the reddened skin. Ginny's jaw clenched but she didn't tell him to stop, so he continued working the paste into the burnt skin. In theory, it was supposed to stop the pain as it healed the burn. The burn on her back was much worse than any he'd dealt with before. He couldn't tell if it was working, but he could feel Ginny's body shivering.

"Are you cold?" he asked. "We could get you a blanket or a—"

"Not cold," Ginny said through her teeth. "Pain. It's bad."

Harry reached into the jar again and pulled out more of the paste. It was obvious that a more aggressive approach was needed. "I'm really sorry, Ginny," he whispered as he prepared to spread it across the very center of the injury.

The moment his fingers made contact, Ginny cried out. Harry forced himself to ignore her screams. Once he put the ointment on, it would get better. It had to. He worked as quickly as he could, dabbing on more and more of the cold paste. As it touched her skin, it released a grey vapor that hung in the air, almost as though it were being boiled away. Perhaps that was indeed what was happening. The skin over and around the wound was blistering hot, and he realized that the chilling nature of the paste was the only thing keeping his own hands from being scalded.

Eventually, Ginny's cries became shallow gasps and Harry began to notice a distinct decrease in the temperature of Ginny's skin. He kept putting on more and more of the thick ointment until there was nothing left in the jar. After spreading the last of it across Ginny's back, he wiped his hands on his cloak and collapsed into a chair next to the table.

For some time they all just sat and waited in tense silence. Slowly the amount of vapor rising of Ginny's back decreased. Ginny moved her arms so they were lying close against her sides. Eventually her breathing slowed to a constant, relaxed rhythm. The treatment had worked.

Harry limped back over to the table and scraped the last of the salve from the jar. He opened Ginny's right hand and spread it across her palm and fingers where she had held her wand. Ginny didn't respond to his touch, and he didn't know whether to take that as a good sign or a bad one. When he was done, he returned to his seat.

As he waited for Ginny to wake up, Harry forced himself to drink some of the Bone Broth and chased it down with a few gulps of Firewhiskey. It was far from his favorite drink, but not nearly as far as Bone Broth. After a minute, he began to feel a familiar tingling as his shin slowly repaired itself.

"I'm cold," Ginny croaked as she finally lifted her head. Her voice was shaky and weak. "It doesn't hurt anymore. It's just really cold."

"That's a good sign," he told her. "You're going to have to keep it on for some time, but we should be able to do something about the cold. Can you sit up?" Harry asked as he stood up and grabbed the small bag he usually carried around with him.

"Yeah, I guess so," she reluctantly agreed. She carefully slid her legs over to the edge of the table, then pushed herself up and let her legs hang off the edge. She gathered up the remnants of her blouse, and held it across her chest while she waited for Harry to retrieve his wand.

"I'll need you to raise your arms," he asked. Ginny let out a small sigh and did as he asked.

"I didn't need to see that," Ron commented as he quickly turned away from her.

Hermione hit him across the back of the head. "Oh, shut up, Ronald," she replied with disgust. "It's not like she's naked. It's no different than a swimming suit and you didn't have any problems when we all went to the beach last summer."

"Actually, I did," Ron mumbled. "I was just distracted."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm going to pretend that you're doing this out of respect and courtesy and not because you're a stupid, immature _boy._" With that, Hermione crossed her arms and turned away from Ginny as well.

"Oh, so we're all supposed to look away while he gets to ogle her in her underwear?" asked Fred. Hermione's head twisted around to glare at him. "Fine! But if they start snogging, I'm holding you responsible." Fred turned around, mumbling inaudibly. George turned to do the same, but stopped to stare at Lee Jordan.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I was, er— you know..." stammered Lee. "I was going to make sure he didn't... try anything funny."

"'Course you were," replied George. With a single motion, he picked some object off the shelf and tossed it directly at Lee's face. There was a small explosion and puff of pink dust. A second later, Lee Jordan collapsed onto the floor. Satisfied, George turned around. "Get on with it!" he ordered.

Harry turned his attention back to Ginny. She was still sitting on the table with her hands clasped behind her neck and looking as embarrassed as ever. He felt guilty as he paused before raising his wand. He could understand why Lee had been slow to turn around. Harry had taken a brief moment to stare at her as well. She was beautiful. He loved her and he knew —despite her earlier behavior— that she cared for him. They hadn't been able to spend more than a day together, and yet she was risking her life to be at his side.

Perhaps that was why he loved her. He had spent a year fighting to keep her safe, but he'd failed, and now she had to fight with him. _She shouldn't have to do it,_ he told himself. He looked into her eyes, and realized the truth: _She shouldn't have to, but she would never forgive you if you refused to let her._

With a quick swirl of his wand a bandage popped into existence and began growing and tightly wrapping itself around Ginny's stomach and lower back. When it had formed a neatly wrapped band around her waist, it paused and then wove itself into the other layers.

Ginny smiled and ran her hand across the bandages. "That was pretty good," she said. "Does it have to be so tight?"

"You won't even notice once you put this on," Harry replied, pulling a small folded bundle from his bag.

Ginny took it from him, unfolded it and eyed it suspiciously. "What is this? Where in the world did you get it?"

"Grigore had some name for it, but I honestly didn't care. All the wizards in the Brotherhood have them. It's a vest of sorts, I guess. They're made out of dragon hide and double stitched with dragon heartstrings and unicorn hair. It's just like this one—" he said, briefly opening his robes to reveal a shell of the same dark hide "—except yours has... well, a couple differences."

"It looks like armor," Ginny commented as she put her arms through the two holes in the sides of the vest.

Harry nodded slightly. "Yes, I expect that's the idea." He stepped forward and helped Ginny adjust the stiff leather. There were no sleeves at all, but the vest covered all of her shoulders and wrapped snuggly around the bottom of her neck. From there, the two halves crisscrossed her chest and formed two wide flaps of leather that Harry was helping her with. One had a soft lining and he wrapped that one across her bandaged stomach first. The flap from the other side was wrapped over the first one and laced in place along her left side.

Harry made a few more adjustments and then firmly tugged the covering about to try and get it to fit correctly. They didn't feel terribly comfortable when you first wore them, but so long as you put it on correctly the first time, it would become pretty comfortable rather quickly. Even then, they were far from attractive. No witch or wizard would ever willingly choose to be seen in such a thing in public.

Adding to the appearance were numerous lacings which needed be adjusted to fit. Harry went about adjusting as many as he could, pressing the dragon hide smooth, then tightening the lacings to match. He kept well away from her chest, however, fearing that Fred or George might have some way of seeing what he was doing.

"Wouldn't it be faster with a wand?" Ginny asked as he tightened the last lacing up her back.

"It would be, if any useful charms worked on it," he answered.

"Are you two done?" Fred called out.

"Yeah," Ginny replied flatly. "I guess so."

Everyone turned around and stared at Ginny. "What the hell is that?" Ron asked.

"It's armor, I guess," Ginny replied as she ran her hands across the tight dragonskin. She tossed Harry a sidelong glance and added, "Too bad no one thought of giving it to me earlier."

"It wouldn't have mattered," Harry said as he tied and tucked the last set of laces. "It's disappointing, but the dragon hide won't even stop Stunners or disarming spells. But it will protect you from the more minor things: fire spells, Levitation Charms, Binding Hexes, and if you're wearing it right, Silencing Charms."

"Did you... make this?" Ginny asked as she examined the vest.

Harry looked over to Hermione, then back at Ginny. "No. I found it."

"You _found_ it?" Fred asked. "The same way you _found_ over forty of our Shield Cloaks and loads of experimental merchandise?"

"Yes," Harry said with a light nod, "exactly the same way —except the owner of this never got compensated for it."

"We never got compensated—"

"Of course you did," Ginny interrupted, then turned back to Harry. "_Where_ did you find it?"

"I found it in a storage closet in the new Quidditch Pitch Grigore built. I didn't change it a bit. To be honest, I was hoping it wouldn't fit you quite that well."

Ginny looked down at the vest again, but this time her expression was filled with loathing instead of curiosity. "The Quidditch Pitch? _He_ was going to give it to me, wasn't he? I was supposed to join him, wasn't I? I was supposed to become one of them."

Fred, George and Lee were watching in silent confusion and waiting for someone to try and explain what was going on. Much to their annoyance, no one seemed at all interested in doing that.

"We should go," Harry said. "It won't take them long to start looking for us. They're moving faster now. We can't go back to Grimmauld Place and we can't go back to Gringott's."

"So where are we supposed to go?" Ron asked.

Harry tossed an apologetic look at Fred and George. "I shouldn't say. I don't want to get them involved. I need to find someplace to think. We still have new allies. I need to see if there is a way to contact them. I think I know someplace where we can go."

"Who are you two talking about?" asked George. "The wizards who attacked Gringott's?"

"Come on," Harry told Ron and Hermione, "we need to go, now." Ginny wrapped her Shield Cloak around her shoulders and pulled up the hood. Hermione and Ron both stood up and began following Harry toward the door. The moment he opened the door, the handle gave him a jolt and then shut itself firmly.

"Now hold on a minute," George said threateningly. "We've been amazingly patient about all of this. We let you heal Ginny because she trusted you, but you're not leaving this shop with her until _we_ trust you. And considering you admitted to stealing from us, not to mention using an entire jar of Cryopaste in front of us, I think you've got a lot of explaining to do."

Harry was afraid that something like this would happen. He didn't want to answer their questions. Every minute he talked with them increased the chance that they would recognize him. If that happened, he didn't know how to keep them safe.

"This should cover the cost of the Cryopaste, as well as the Bone Broth and Firewhiskey," Harry said as he tossed another bag of coins at George. "I'm sorry about the rest. Believe me when I say that I'll see that you're repaid for all of it."

George caught the bag but kept glaring at Harry. "We're supposed to trust you, now? Your name isn't Evans," he declared. "I've never met anyone named Evans, but I've met you. Your voice. Your expressions. I recognize them from somewhere. But, if I don't recognize your face, it's probably because we don't like you."

"How did you know that would heal her?" Fred asked in a dull voice. "How did you know that you could find it here?"

Harry sighed in frustration. "I knew you had some of it because I've paid wizards to keep track of all the supplies you buy," he explained. "And I knew it would heal her because... because this isn't the first time I've seen an injury like this."

George turned toward Ron and Hermione. "How much does he know?" he asked. "He knows about Grimmauld Place. Does he know about the Order?"

Ron and Hermione shared an odd look, then Ron answered: "I'd say he knows quite a bit, and yeah, he does know about the Order."

"Why does Ginny trust him?"

Now Ron looked even more uncomfortable. "He, er... I can't really say."

"You can't say?" George repeated. "Why do _you_ trust him? Why did you let him take her here instead of St. Mungo's. They could've healed her quicker than he did."

"We can't go to St. Mungo's," announced Harry. "There are a lot of wizards searching for us. Bad wizards. We don't have time to wait for a bunch of Healers to agree that she's ready to leave."

"There are a bunch of wizards searching for _you,_ you mean," Fred corrected. "_You_ were the one burglarizing our shop. I'll bet you were the one who pulled her into this whole mess. So who are you and why should we trust you?"

Harry took a deep breath and looked at the twins. "I promise I'll tell you soon. We need to gather the Order of the Phoenix. I'll need their help. But we need to do it very quietly and we need to find someplace safe to meet."

"How about the Burrow?" George offered.

"No, the Burrow's a horrible choice," Harry replied. "They've been watching it for months. If everyone would show up there, they'd attack it immediately."

Fred and George looked at each other. "You're certain of that?"

Harry felt a chill run through his body. There was something wrong about the look on the twins' faces. "What is it? What have you done?"

For once, Fred looked genuinely frightened. "When Mum and Dad heard about Ginny, they went a bit mental. They called everyone. Everyone who had ever helped the Order. They told them to..."

Harry didn't even wait for him to finish. He already knew what they'd done. They'd organized the Order days before he'd wanted them to, and they'd called everyone to the very last place they should have.

"Ginny, do you feel up to Disapparating?"

"Don't worry about me," she shot back.

Harry turned back toward the twins. "Can we Disapparate from here?"

"No," George answered as he tugged a pair of Shield Cloaks from the wall and tossed one to his brother. "The wards extend to the front door."

"Wake him up," Harry ordered, pointing to Lee's unconscious form. "You can't leave him here." He yanked open the door and ran through the shop toward the front door. Ginny was on his heels, with Ron and Hermione close behind her. Fred and George struggled to keep up while dragging a groggy Lee Jordan between them.

* * *

Ginny felt the world decompress around her. She was on the hill overlooking the Burrow, but she had missed the normal Apparation point, and was standing in a bunch of trees on the far side of the hill. Harry was right. The vest had helped quite a bit. She had only failed because of her own fear. 

She could hear Harry shouting for her. She stepped over a fallen sapling and began running toward the crest of the hill. As she broke out of the trees, she saw something that made her blood freeze.

A tall column of black smoke was rising into the sky from the direction of the Burrow. Harry was standing at the top of the hill with Hermione at his side. There was no sign of Ron or the twins. Hermione spotted her and tapped Harry on the shoulder. When he turned, the expression on her face confirmed her fears.

Ginny sprinted to the crest, and stared across the field to where the Burrow stood burning in the afternoon sun. Four cloaked shapes were running toward it. It took her only a moment to realize that they were Fred, George, Lee and Ron. Ron was ahead of the others. As he neared the precarious structure, he pulled out his wand and aimed a fountain of water onto the flaming roof. Seconds later, Fred, George and Lee joined him.

"We need to help them!" Ginny cried out. She fumbled for her wand as she leaped forward.

Harry's arm shot out and caught her by the shoulder, stopping her abruptly. "Stay here," he ordered.

"That's my home!" Ginny shouted. "The Order is down there. _My family_ is down there, Harry. They're _your_ family, too. They loved you like a son, and you're just going to stand here?"

"They've already escaped."

"You can't know that! Are you willing to risk their lives on that guess?"

"I'm not willing to risk yours on the chance that they didn't," he replied sharply.

"I'm tired of being protected," Ginny said, as she tried to push past Harry. Suddenly she felt herself being spun about and she found Harry staring into her eyes.

"You're not the one I'm trying to protect."

Ginny felt her jaw clench and eyes narrow. "I'm tired of your stupid riddles, Harry," she growled. "Now either let me go or I'll hex you into tomorrow."

To her surprise, she found herself free of Harry's grip and standing in a light breeze which smelled of charred wood.

"Please don't leave, Ginny," he said softly. "I need you. If you go—"

Ginny stepped forward and jabbed a finger into Harry's chest. "You did just fine without me for a whole year. I'm sure you can handle a few minutes." She backed away, fuming. "You might be able to turn your back on everyone you love, but I can't and I don't want to learn how."

"Ginny!" Hermione called out. "Please! Listen to him. Don't leave this hill."

Ginny turned to return some nasty comment, but when she looked back at Hermione, she found that the older witch wasn't even looking at her. She was staring off into the trees, as if she were searching for something. It was only then when she realized that Harry had been doing the same, only less conspicuously.

The contrast of Harry's moods struck her suddenly. A minute ago, he had been racing out of the twins' shop in an attempt to get to the Burrow. He had been heedless of the crowds on Diagon Alley or the thought of being seen once he got to the Burrow, yet the moment he Apparated onto the hill, he had frozen. That alone might have been explainable, but Hermione had done the very same thing and seemingly without any communication with Harry.

Something was wrong. Ginny turned back to the Burrow in time to see Fred, George and Lee showering the front door with water while Ron ripped it from its hinges with a spell. When she looked back at Harry, he was watching her silently.

"What's happening, Harry?" she asked. "Why did you let them go, but not me?"

"Because until two days ago, Grigore didn't care about them. He doesn't see them as a threat. They will only be in danger when we're out of reach. So long as we're on this hill, the Brotherhood cares about them about as much as they care about your garden gnomes."

"Until now?" Ginny asked. "What has changed?"

"Everything," he replied solemnly. "For ten months, Grigore and I have fought a silent war. Grigore has always had the advantage, but it's been eroding a little bit every day." Harry's eyes dropped to stare at his hands. "I should have seen it coming. The closer I got to you, the more desperate he's become." His eyes looked up at her again and she could see the regret swimming in them. "I've made a mistake."

That simple statement left her drowning in doubt. After everything that had happened, everything she'd done and endured, something had happened to ruin all of it. She tried to swallow or breathe, but she couldn't. "What did you do?" she croaked.

"I moved too quickly," he said apologetically. "After a year of hiding and running, I finally got what I had been fighting for: you. We escaped. We were safe. We could have hidden, but I didn't want to wait. I saw a chance to gain the advantage, and I took it. And for that foolish act, I was rewarded with more than I ever expected. I stumbled across the answer I'd been looking for all this time, but I didn't take the time to understand what it meant or plan how to best use it. Instead of slipping away with my treasure, I stayed and tried to get it all in one day. Grigore always said that impatience was my greatest weakness."

Harry rubbed his forehead and looked down at the ground. "I should've walked away. The wand wasn't worth it. It was only a way of buying time —time we wouldn't need if we didn't take the wand and won't have now that we did. I've botched it all up. They've been watching the Burrow for months!" he exclaimed with a wild gesture toward the rising smoke. "Now everyone in the Order is in danger, and they're not even helping me."

"We can find them," Ginny said. "Tonks and Lupin are at Hogwarts. We can—"

"No!" barked Harry. "We can't go there. Don't you see, Ginny? The war has started. It will follow _us_. If we go there, the battle..." Harry shook his head and got a far off look in his eyes. "No. We can't go there."

Ginny walked closer to him, putting her hands on her hips. "So what are we supposed to do?" she asked.

Harry didn't answer her. Instead he looked across the distance between them and the Burrow. Ginny watched as Ron and the twins' emerged from the Burrow. Lee had remained outside to put out the last of the flames. No one was following them. Ron extended his arms out to either side and shrugged theatrically.

"They're all gone," Harry said in a low voice. "They escaped."

While the four wizards walked back toward the hill, Harry, Ginny and Hermione stood in a mournful silence. Ginny didn't know just what she was mourning. While no one might have died in the Burrow, she couldn't help but feel that some dreadful fate hung over all of them. Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw Hermione move.

She was wiping a tear from one of her cheeks. "Can I— Can I say goodbye to him?" she asked softly.

"Of course," answered Harry.

There was an unexplained tightness in Ginny's throat as she watched Ron and the others walk up the hill. She didn't want to think of the reason for Hermione's farewell.

"Thanks for the help!" Ron called out as he neared the top of the hill. "We could've done that a lot quicker with three more wands."

"I'm not so certain," Harry replied.

"Well that's bloody great!" Ron shouted. "Did you know this had happened? Or did you just know that it _would_ happen and you forgot to tell us?"

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized again. "I never meant for the Order to meet so soon, and I never wanted them to meet here."

George scowled at him and strode forward. His face was blackened by soot, making his red hair stand out even more. "Who the bloody hell do you think you are to tell the Order —of which you are _not_ a member— when or where they should meet?"

"Not now, Fred," Ron said. He was walking toward Hermione, whose eyes were still red and watery. "What's wrong Hermione?"

"A long time ago, I— I did something I shouldn't have," she said quietly. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but..." She sniffed and wiped her eyes again. "I have to go, Ron. I helped create a problem and I need to help fix it."

"Then I'll help as well."

"You don't understand," she said. "Where we're going, you wouldn't... fit in. I have a chance. But not you."

"I don't care," Ron replied simply. "You didn't have any problem when I wanted to help you rob the Department of Mysteries. If you think no one spotted me during all that, then you're too daft to go wherever it is you're going now. I don't care if you let me or not, I'm coming with you. I've seen what they do. If you lot leave, they'll come for me."

Ginny knew that Ron was right, and from the look on Harry's face, he agreed. He nodded stiffly. Hermione seemed trapped between despair and jubilation. "We need to go, Harry," she said with a hoarse voice.

Harry nodded again and stepped closer to Ginny. "Hermione's right. We've lost enough time already. They're probably already hunting for the Order. I— I can't tell you to come with us. It's not something you should have to do. It's not fair."

"It wasn't fair that you left me a year ago."

"I had to," Harry replied, "just like I have to do this."

"Where are you going?"

Slowly, Harry reached into his robe pocket to retrieve a small object. For a moment, she didn't want to know what it was. It was some omen of doom that was best left hidden. As Harry's hand opened, she looked down and felt her stomach tighten.

Laying peacefully in the center of his hand was a simple golden ring passing through three silver spheres. She recognized the chain threaded through it. It was the chain which she'd taken from the dead wizard in Giza. It was the one she'd taken from the wizard she'd killed.

Harry's message was clear. Where they were going was going to be dangerous. There would be fighting. People were probably going to die. The war had begun and Harry was going to try and stop it the only way he knew how. It was stupid. It was nearly suicidal, and yet, there might be a way.

"I can't tell you to come with us," Harry said again, "but you know why I have to ask."

Ginny felt numb. She could feel her blood pulsing through her arms and throbbing in the tender skin on her back. Slowly, she reached out and wrapped her hand around the talisman. She carefully slipped the chain around her neck and tucked the ring under her robes.

She looked up at Harry. "Yes, I know why you have to ask. And I know why I have to go with you."

"Then you bloody well better tell us!" Fred shouted. "Who the hell is he that you're willing to follow him without even knowing where you're going?"

Ginny looked over at Harry, but he flashed a frown and shook his head slightly.

"What the bloody hell was that?" George asked, pointing at Harry. "Ginny, we're serious. I've got a bad feeling about all this. Something deeply strange is happening. Mum and Dad are already worried out of their minds. If you really want to help this thieving sod, then help us find the Order. Let him take Tonks and Moody with him."

She already knew that wouldn't work. If it were possible, Harry would have suggested it. He needed her, even though he hated the idea of putting her in danger again. And she thought she finally understood why.

Ginny turned and stared at Fred and George. Lee Jordan had decided to watch from a distance, though she could tell that he was just as concerned about her as her brothers. She stared at all of them and stood up straight.

"No," she announced firmly. "Not this time. I know what I'm doing. I'm not letting him go without me."

George groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Merlin's beard, Fred. She fancies him. We should have known."

Fred didn't seem to care. He strode right up to Ginny with an annoyed expression on his face. "Ginny, I know you don't want to hear this, but it's for your own good. This bloke here, he's not Harry," he said pointing toward Harry. "Running off with him won't change what happened to Harry. Nothing can change that. You can't spend the rest of your life trying to fix something that's already happened."

"I'm not trying to fix it," Ginny replied. "But I can't sit around and watch it happen again."

"Is that the game, then?" George asked. "You're doing this because Harry didn't let you go with him? And if he would have, you'd be no better off than him right now. Do you think that's what Harry would want?"

"I think that if he was here, he would want me to go."

"And that's why you keep putting yourself in danger, isn't it?" Fred asked. "Sooner or later, you'll succeed, and then you'll get to be together with Harry again. And where will that leave us? What about Mum and Dad. If Hermione wants to risk her life, we can't stop her. If she goes, it won't be possible to stop Ron. Mum and Dad will worry enough with one of their children gone. You don't have to make it two."

"You don't understand," Ginny argued. "It's different this time."

"We know it is," said George. "This isn't Harry against Voldemort. This is four inexperienced wizards against an army of well-trained wizards. You don't have a chance, Ginny. This isn't a battle you need to fight. Stay here. We'll gather the Order. We can fight this, just not like this."

Fred added: "This is a mistake, Ginny."

"No. No, it's not," Ginny replied in a tranquil voice. "I can keep him safe. I can keep them all safe. No one else can do this. If I don't go, they won't have a chance."

"Ginny—"

"I'm sorry," Ginny interrupted, "we really need to go." She turned and found Harry watching her with a strange expression on his face. He looked _proud_. "We'll need to find a fireplace, right?" she asked him. He nodded. Ginny thought for a moment. "How about the _Wayward Fox_ in Dover?" She knew the fireplace in that pub was connected to the French Floo Network, and with a little work, they should be able to find their way to Paris and then across Europe.

Harry looked to Ron and Hermione, and they nodded in agreement. Ron pulled out his wand. "We'll go first. Give us a little time to check the place out."

With a pair of _pops_, Ron and Hermione vanished, leaving them alone with Fred, George and a very uncomfortable Lee Jordan.

"Goodbye, Fred. Goodbye, George," Ginny said with a slight nod. She held up her free hand to wave at Lee. "I'll see you all later."

Harry pulled out his wand, but hesitated a moment. "I wonder if you might do something for me," he asked them.

"Oh, you've got to be joking," Fred replied acidly.

Harry ignored him. "Send word to the Order. Tell them not to gather for at least three days. Until then, if you value Ginny's life, don't tell anyone about what you saw or heard today. If everything goes well, we'll send a message to you before then. If it doesn't—"

"—If it doesn't, you'd better be dead, because you don't want to think of what we'll do to you if you let anything happen to her."

Harry frowned and waited for him to finish. "If it doesn't go well, you probably won't hear anything at all. If we haven't contacted you in three days, gather the Order. Have them contact Ferdinand Harrington at the Ministry. And tell Molly and Arthur... Tell them that I'm sorry. Tell them that I... that I loved my family— my _true_ family."

Harry nodded to Ginny, and they Disapparated.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

In case no one's noticed, I'm moving a bit slower now. We're nearing the end and I've got lots of things to think about. I swear that I'm not far from finishing 23 and 24 is all outlined out. Then it's a short 25 and we're done!


	23. The Circular Study

**CHAPTER 23**

**The Circular Study**

* * *

Harry and Ginny arrived outside the _Wayward Fox_ and found Ron and Hermione standing nearby with their wands drawn. The pub sat at the bottom of a rather steep hill. At the top was a small, run-down castle. Behind them, the land sloped away until it suddenly stopped and dropped to the sea. 

"It's pretty quiet," Ron said. "There aren't more than a dozen wizards inside."

"One of them is a spy for the Brotherhood," Harry replied. "They'll have someone in every wizarding pub in Britain by now. They're probably watching to see if we leave by Apparation or the Floo."

"How _are_ we going to leave, then?"

Harry smiled and clapped his hand on Ron's shoulder. "The Floo," he answered lightly. "We're taking the Floo to Paris."

"How are we supposed to do that? There might be only a dozen wizards in the pub, but I doubt it holds much more than thirty at most," Ron explained. "If we use the Floo, everyone in the pub will know exactly where we went."

"I hope so," Harry said with a nod. He began walking toward the door, but Ron grabbed his shoulder.

"I thought the point of coming here was finding a secret way into France. If we don't care about that, why didn't we just Apparate from the Ministry?"

"If I wanted to find a secret way into France, I'd have gone to Nottingham. There's a wizard there who will sell you Portkeys into Europe. His silence is for sale as well, but I wasn't interested in secrecy."

Ron looked perplexed.

Harry tried to explain it to him. "If we just disappear, the Brotherhood will go for Fred and George, or Bill and Fleur, or your Mum and Dad. They'll hunt down every person who might know where we were. I _want_ them to know we're going to Paris. I _need_ them to see us arrive there. Let them go there to try and track us down. It's better than having them coming after our friends and family."

"Alright," Ron replied. "Where are we supposed to be going?"

"We are going to take the Floo to a pub called _Le Singe Ivre_. It's large, popular, and very close to Paris."

"Sounds like a great place to go when you're trying to run from a band of murdering dark wizards," Ron commented sourly.

Harry frowned and turned away from Ron. "From there, we'll split up and Apparate here—" he said as he handed a piece of parchment to Hermione. "You know it, don't you?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said with a nod.

"Good." With a flick of his wand, flames flickered to life around the scrap and she let it float to the ground as it burnt.

"Oi!" Ron cried. "What about me? You're going to take me to Paris and then leave me with a bunch of angry wizards?"

"No, I'll take you. That's why we're splitting up," Harry told him. "Hermione will take Ginny. It will be easier for us to split up like that." Then, without giving Ron any more chances to object, Harry strode to the door of the pub, opened it and walked in.

Every witch and wizard in the pub turned to look at him. He was still disguised, but that would hardly make a difference. The _Wayward Fox_ was such a small and secluded pub that any newcomers were easy to spot. The arrival of four strangers in the pub on the same day that Harry slipped past the Brotherhood would be a mystery any Brotherhood lookout could easily solve.

Harry walked to the bar and waited for the barman to acknowledge him. Once Ginny, Ron and Hermione had joined him, the old wizard finally broke out of his shocked silence and turned to face Harry.

"Is there something I can do for you lot? If you're looking for a room to sleep in, you're off by quite a few miles," he said in a low, coarse voice. "You'll want _Roderick's of Brighton_. He's always got a spare room or two."

"Actually, we were hoping to use your fireplace," Harry announced.

"Fireplace is for patrons only," the barman replied gruffly. "You can Disapparate or you can walk. No brooms around here. There's Muggles on the other side of the hill."

"We're patrons," Harry said as he slid a pair of gold coins across the bar. They weren't Galleons, but it didn't matter. They were gold, and they were large. "We'd like four handfuls of Floo Powder," he announced.

The old man stared at the coins, then at the four of them. He seemed locked in a battle against his better judgment, but as Harry discovered long ago, nothing clouded judgment like the gleam of gold. Harry pulled out a third coin and slid it across the bar as well.

"Alright," the man agreed suddenly. "You've got your Powder. Use it and be off. Strangers aren't terribly welcome around here, less so when they're pushy, and dangerously less when they're rich."

He crouched down behind the bar and pulled out a wide pot filled with a fine black powder. Harry gestured for the other three to take a handful before he got his own. With a nod toward the fireplace, they all turned and walked off, leaving the barman to scowl at their backs.

Harry told Hermione and Ron to go first, then Ginny. After Ginny had spun off to France and the rush of flames disappeared, Harry prepared to leave as well. He took one last moment to look around the bar. Of the dozen or so wizards there, over half of them were still watching him. Any one of them could be working with the Brotherhood, but there was no way to tell which one. He would just have to hope they were listening.

He stepped into the flames and tried to relax. If he was tense, he'd never pronounce it right and he'd end up spinning off to someplace he might not even recognize. He took one last deep breath and threw the Powder into the heart of the fire.

"_Le Singe Ivre!_"

* * *

Harry tumbled out of the fireplace and into the center of a cavernous room. The fireplace and chimney were made of stone, not brick, and stood in the center of the hall like an enormous tent pole supporting the ceiling high above him. He was surrounded by wizards from many different countries. Most of them were French, but Paris had always been a gathering place for wizards, and _Le Singe Ivre_ was the largest and most welcoming pub in Paris. 

He'd first come there just over a year ago with Grigore. He had invited Harry, Josef, Dragomir and Andros to join him in speaking with a wizard Grigore had been trying to recruit into the Brotherhood. Harry's first impression of the place was positive. He'd liked the open space and the way it resembled a miniature version of a Quidditch Pitch, with multiple levels surrounding the open center.

Unfortunately, his memories were tainted by the revelations of that fateful meeting. That was the first time Harry had met Henri D'Anneau. He had disliked the man from the very start. Only Josef's quick reflexes had prevented Harry from hexing Henri. He'd been back to the pub a number of times since then, most recently to search for Sabine's sister. As he looked about the hall, he wished that he could return someday with business no more sinister than the smuggling of Fairy Wine which had been prohibited for over fifty years.

"Enough sightseeing, Harry," Ron said in a low voice. "Let's get going before everyone in this place realizes that we don't belong."

Harry gave Ron a strange look. "Why would we want to leave before then? Are you in some hurry?" While Ron was trying to understand just what he meant, Harry began making his way to the large stone bar at one end of the hall.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked. "The door is over there!" he shouted, pointing in the opposite direction.

"I'm thirsty," Harry called back. "Find a table. I'll be right back."

He dodged between tables and clumps of wizards, slowly closing the distance between himself and the bar. The bar was truly immense, stretching from one side of the hall to the other. There were a number of wizards standing behind it, but they had little to do. At one end of the bar, a short wizard in bright yellow robes was standing on a stool and telling some story.

Whatever the story was, it was capturing the attention of the bartenders just as much as the patrons. Few people were buying drinks, and fewer people were selling them. Harry walked up to an empty space along the stone slab and simply waited for someone to notice. After only a few seconds, a round-faced man with graying hair spotted him and began walking over. Before he could get within ten feet of Harry, an attractive young witch with playfully curly blonde hair appeared and stood across from Harry smiling in a similarly playful manner.

"Bonjour, chÃ©ri. Bienvenu au _Singe Ivre_," she said as she leaned over the bar and stared into Harry's eyes. "Est-ce que je peux t'apporter quelque chose? Une tasse de Vin? Ou peut-Ãªtre une biÃ¨re? Suivie d'une longue nuit blanche avec petit dÃ©jeuner dans mon lit?"

"BiÃ¨res Ã Beurre," he said clearly, pointing at a pyramid of bottles behind the young woman. "Quatre," he added, holding up four fingers as if her knowledge of the French language might be worse than his.

She stared at him strangely. "BiÃ¨res Ã Beurre?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. "Tu plaisantes, non? Allez, nous sommes connus pour notre cabernet... Et je promet qu'il vient accompagnÃ© de choses encore plus douces…"

"Oui," Harry replied with a friendly smile.

The young witch stared at him for a moment before turning around to pull four bottles off the top of the stack. "Tu veux que je te laisse ta dignitÃ© avec eux?" she said as she placed the bottles on the bar. "Ou tu prÃ©fÃ¨res quatre pailles d'enfant?"

Harry was unprepared for the barrage, and struggled to catch all of the words. "Je suis—" he began stammering.

"Les quatre pailles d'enfant aussi, je vois," she said with a nod and a warm smile.

Harry returned the smile. "Mais oui. Naturellement."

"Naturellement," the woman said with a charming laugh. Harry searched in his pockets for more of the gold coins while she opened each of the bottles and put them on a tray.

"What the bloody hell are those?" Ron nearly shouted when Harry returned. He sat the tray down in the center of the table and took a seat between Ron and Ginny.

Harry frowned at the four bottles. "I'm certain I would know if I had studied French longer than two months."

Each of the four bottles had been given a curling glass straw which bent and twisted as it left the neck of the bottle. A few inches above the top of the bottle was a comical facsimile of a monkey's head. It had been fashioned so that the straw passed through into its mouth and out through one ear.

Ginny was the first to reach for one of the bottles. With a shrug, she put the end of the straw to her lips. Harry watched as the pale liquid looped through the narrow straw. As it passed through the monkey's head, its eyes opened and spun about crazily making a rather annoying, high-pitched noise.

"Oh, that's brilliant," groaned Ron. "You weren't satisfied to just let us be seen here, but you had to humiliate us while you were at it? Thanks, Mr. _Evans_, but I don't think we'll be needing your linguistic skills any longer."

"Oh, and you're so much better?" Harry shot back. He leaned across the table, and hissed, "I speak English and Parseltongue. How many languages do you speak?"

Ron glared at Harry, then pulled the straw from his bottle and slapped it onto the table mercilessly. "I think I made my point," he announced as he sat back and began drinking his butterbeer.

"I speak English, French, German and Italian," announced Hermione.

Harry pulled the straw from his bottle and stared back at her. "No one cares." Hermione rolled her eyes and reached for her bottle.

They all sat at the table, drinking their butterbeer and not talking. Once the embarrassment of the immediate situation passed, the tension from earlier in the day returned. Harry became aware of the large number of wizards watching them. It was almost as if they all knew that the four of them were about to do something that they should all take note of.

Ginny appeared to have noticed as well. She'd stopped drinking her butterbeer and left the half-empty bottle on the tray. "I, er— I don't think I'm thirsty anymore," she whispered.

Harry looked over at Ron and Hermione. Hermione gave him a quick nod. Ginny was right. It was time for them to go.

Harry stood up and walked around Ginny to stand in front of Hermione. When she stood up, he held out his arms and embraced her in a tight hug. He didn't say anything, but she seemed to understand the plan. Harry turned to Ginny, giving her a similar hug, but adding a quick kiss. Ron followed Harry's lead, hugging Ginny and kissing Hermione after a whispered goodbye.

Harry turned away from the women, and led Ron toward the main door. As they walked, the crowd seemed to part slightly, making it easier for them to pass than it truly should have been. Harry tried not to dwell on it. He'd come here so that they would be seen. He always knew there was a chance that someone would be able to follow him, or that they might even set up an ambush. For now, that didn't make sense. Grigore always hated acting without understanding first. So long as Harry kept doing things that were difficult to understand, he would be safe from any harsh actions from the Brotherhood.

Ron, unfortunately, knew nothing of this. By the time they walked out of the doorway to _Le Singe Ivre_, Ron looked ready to turn his wand on the first wizard who flinched in the wrong direction.

"Relax," Harry whispered to him. "We're fine. No one's going to attack us."

"Then why do you keep walking faster?" Ron growled.

"Just a little further," Harry said under his breath. "Give me your arm."

Ron held his elbow out for Harry to grab in his left arm. Harry pulled his wand out with his right hand, grabbed Ron, and a fraction of a second later, Paris was swept away, as Harry pulled Ron through the choking darkness to a small city some distance away.

* * *

"What is this place?" Ron asked as he walked toward a run-down wooden building. It stood alone in the middle of a small grouping of trees. Beyond the trees, the land was mostly flat and featureless. 

"It was one of the proposed sites for next year's Quidditch World Cup," Harry replied. "They ended up picking a different one. They thought this one was too close to too many Muggles. It was abandoned months ago. All of the wards were removed, but it's easier to take down wards than break international Floo System connections. There is a fireplace inside that building which can take us all the way to Vienna."

"And that's where we're going?" Ron asked. "What's in Vienna?"

"Trains," Harry answered. "Lots of trains. Quite a few of them will pass trough Romania. We just need to find one."

Before Ron got a chance to ask more questions, a loud _pop_ announced the arrival of Hermione and Ginny. Harry and Hermione briefly explained the same information Harry had just related to Ron, and then he urged them toward the building. There would be plenty of time to discuss the future once they got on their train at Vienna.

* * *

Harry tumbled out of the fireplace in Vienna and felt nervous almost immediately. Ron and Hermione were standing stiffly and staring at him. He barely had time to get out of the way before Ginny rolled in behind him. Harry quickly dusted himself off, stood up, and promptly froze. 

"Hello, Harry," Andros greeted him. "Or, at least, I assume that is your name and that you are not some hapless bystander whom these three have roped into this stupid venture."

Harry simply stared back at him. "Where is Dragomir?"

Andros answered quickly and comfortably: "Romania."

"Who is with you, then?" Harry asked. "Where are they?"

"No one is with me. Grigore was explicit. We're lookouts only. We work alone today. Josef convinced Razvan and Grigore that you'd never come this way. He suggested that the most vigilant guards be sent in other directions. I was given the Vienna train station. No one was expecting to see you here, except Josef."

"How does this Josef bloke know so much?" Ron asked.

"He spent weeks with your friend," Andros replied. "Josef worked with him. He studied with him, and he studied him. He knows how much Harry likes trains, and he knows he's used Muggle transportation to slip past the Brotherhood in the past. He also said that you would be too impatient to take a train from some safer location like London or Amsterdam. He figured you'd pick the closest train station with a large wizarding population." Andros held out his arms. "And here you are. Please, take a seat. Josef sent something he said you'd need."

Harry sat down and motioned for the other three to do the same. They did, but kept well away from Andros. "Alright," Harry said quietly, "What do you have for me?" Next to him, Ron flinched as Andros reached into his robes. "We can trust him," Harry whispered. Ron relaxed, but Harry had to admit that there was some wisdom behind Ron's reaction. Once they had both calmed down, Andros slid a tall bottle filled with dark liquid across the table.

Harry picked it up and felt a gentle warmth radiating off the glass. The liquid inside was not one single color. Instead, it seemed to be made up of two things which were only slightly mixed. One was a deep maroon and the other was dark enough to be black. He quickly put it back down on the table.

"Norwegian Ridgeback blood?" he asked with a disgusted frown. "What is it mixed with? Acromantula venom? Kelpie oil?"

"Acromantula venom," Andros answered with a nod. "Anesthetic. The Ridgeback blood is the important ingredient. It's amazingly powerful."

"It's also very _illegal_," Harry snapped.

"Not in Romania," countered Andros, "and not in Austria. Don't get moralistic, Harry. Whatever you gave her, it won't last long. It needs to be fixed not ignored."

"It was fixed," Harry growled. "Cryopaste works just as well, and I didn't have to break any laws to get it."

"For the love of God, Harry! Cryopaste?" Andros cried out, attracting the attention of several nearby tables. He tossed a threatening glare at a pair of wizards who were staring at them and continued in a hushed voice. "Are you insane? I thought you said that you loved her? The pain must have been—"

"I didn't have much choice, did I?" Harry interrupted. "If Josef felt like being helpful, he could have stopped Razvan from doing it in the first place."

Harry hadn't seen Andros angry very often, but he knew that he was getting close. "He might have, if you hadn't waltzed into your Ministry wearing his face and making a spectacle of yourself," Andros hissed in response. "Instead, he was stuck in Britain trying to keep you alive and fix the mess you created."

Now Harry was getting upset. "What was I supposed to do? Let Grigore kill Ron? Let him get Voldemort's wand?"

"It has been _two days_, Harry," Andros said, "—just two short days since I sat here with Dragomir and listened to him ask for your help. We didn't ask anything of you except one thing: Stay alive and don't do anything stupid. And in those two days you have staged an assault on a Quidditch match, fought a battle in the middle of a Muggle street, restrained a Brotherhood member, and tricked the rest of the Brotherhood into attacking a branch of the largest wizarding bank so you could sneak into your Ministry to retrieve the wand _while wearing the face of the wizard who is trying hardest to keep you safe_."

"I didn't have a choice."

"Maybe not," the other wizard replied, "but you have one now. The path you're on now leads to your death. If you die, you'll take all of us with you. Josef, Dragomir and I cannot face Grigore alone. If we fail, who knows what will happen?" Andros leaned forward and looked into Harry's eyes. "Turn back. This is not the time to fight this battle."

"I don't have any more time," Harry replied stonily. From the corners of his eyes he could see the tense expressions on his friends' faces. Of the three, only Ginny looked confident. She was staring directly at Andros with one hand inside her robes, undoubtedly gripping her wand. If Harry wasn't careful, he'd start yet another battle and lose his last allies.

"Listen to me," he pleaded. "If I let Grigore get the wand, Reynard would have taken Hermione. Grigore could have prevented that, but he didn't. He could have walked away, but he didn't. The Order of the Phoenix didn't know about him, but he attacked them. He didn't need to involve them, but they'll be searching for all of you now. It's all falling apart, Andros. He'll kill them if they find out about any of you. You know he will."

"Sacrifices must be made, Harry," replied Andros. "Josef said he can guarantee the lives of the Weasleys, the Werewolf and the Metamorphmagus. He knows that you care for them and he wants to prove that he is trying to help you."

"And the others?"

Andros looked somber. "If any of the others die, they should be proud to give their lives for such an important cause. The Brotherhood has never made such agreements. This is a personal guarantee from Josef."

"I don't want any guarantees from Josef," Harry snapped. "I know how he works. I can't wait for him to find a perfect solution which doesn't exist. I won't gamble with people's lives like that."

"You will not wait?" Andros asked in a frustrated voice. "Not even for a day?"

Harry stared back at him with empty eyes. "In a day, Grigore might kill six of my friends. Even one would be too many."

Andros then turned to Ginny. "Can you do nothing? Your words may have more control over him than any I could say," he told her. "Please? For your own safety and for his, go back to Britain, or France, or Germany. Anywhere but Romania."

Harry turned to look at Ginny but she ignored him. She was still staring at Andros with a passive look on her face.

"I can't," she told him. "Enough people have died. Harry can stop it, and he will. And I'm going with him."

Andros shook his head. "You don't know the danger—"

"I know that I'm the only one who can keep him safe," Ginny interrupted. "Tarus won't kill me. If anything goes wrong, I may be the only one who can get Harry out of there alive."

Andros glared at Ginny as though she had betrayed him. He turned to Ron and Hermione, and then finally back to Harry. "Very well," he said defeated. "I suppose there is no other choice." He leaned back and reached into his robes.

With surprising speed, Ginny rolled off the edge of her seat and lunged forward pointing the tip of her wand directly into Andros's jaw. To his left, Harry saw that Ron and Hermione both had their wands out as well.

"Relax, Ginevra," Andros said stiffly. "Where you're going, I have no doubt that you will have use for such reflexes, but for the moment, they are only drawing more attention to a meeting that is not supposed to be happening."

Ginny looked back to Harry, as if to ask for some advice on what to do. In the end, Andros was still a member of the Brotherhood, a group of wizards firmly under the control of Grigore Tarus, a wizard who'd tricked him, trapped him, and lied to him many times. And yet, he didn't think he could succeed without some help.

"Sit down, Ginny," Harry said softly. Ginny looked surprised and almost hurt. "Sit down, but keep your wand on our friend," he told her. "He won't mind. If he's really trying to help us, we have no reason to attack him." Ginny did as he said and sat back down in her seat. She left her right arm lying on the table and her wand pointed directly at Andros's chest.

He glowered at Harry, obviously unimpressed with the amount of trust shown. After a moment of frustration, he slowly removed his hand and slid an envelope toward Harry. "A show of faith," Andros said. "It would be encouraging to see something in return."

Harry reached for the envelope, but Ron lunged for it first and pulled it from Harry's hands. "I don't trust him," he mumbled to Harry as his fingers pried the parchment open. Harry watched as Ron pulled out what looked to be a number of slips of bleached white paper.

"They're... er, I don't really know what they are," admitted Ron.

"They're tickets," Hermione explained. "They're Muggle train tickets. The train leaves in... about half an hour and ends in a place called Oradea."

"Tickets?" Harry asked Andros.

"If you refuse to help us, then at least allow us to help you do things the right way," he replied. "What were you going to do? Stand in line with the Muggles and hope that no one would be watching?"

"How would that be worse than having a Brotherhood member give the tickets to me?" he retorted. "At least my way there's only a chance that Grigore finds out where I've gone."

"Grigore will not learn of this from me, I guarantee you," Andros said in a serious tone.

"I know him better than you do," Harry told him. "He is going to talk to every one of you. He'll know that you're hiding something from him. Once he knows there is something worth hiding, he _will_ find out what it is."

Andros straightened in his chair and stared calmly back at Harry. "You are right. Grigore is very skilled, but even he cannot extract the truth from an unconscious man." It took Harry a second to understand just what he meant. "Yes, Harry," he said as he saw the recognition in Harry's eyes. "The tickets aren't the show of faith. This is."

Harry's mind ran through a dozen different hexes which would work. Each of them had their own risks. Some of them were impractical; some were pointless with the variety of potions available just outside the pub. There were two however, which would work nicely.

"A day should be long enough," Harry declared. "Have you eaten recently?"

Andros nodded. "I have paid for a room upstairs. If you can give me a minute to get there, no one will even find me before it's all over." Harry agreed. There was one obvious choice. Andros knew which one it was. He'd been expecting this long before Harry even arrived. With a nod to the clock over the fireplace, he looked at Harry and spoke: "You've got twenty minutes. You should go. Dragomir will be waiting for you."

Harry pulled his wand out and aimed it at Andros's chest. He closed his eyes and whispered, "_Hiberno Totalus._" A soft wisp of golden mist swirled from Harry's wand and wound itself toward Andros's chest. It struck him, dissipating silently. He sighed deeply and stood up.

"Good luck."

Then he turned and walked unsteadily away from them. Harry watched as he carefully climbed the stairs and stumbled down a narrow corridor.

"Come on," he announced, "we've got a train to catch."

* * *

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny boarded the train as soon as they could. Just as Harry and Ginny had done before, they found an empty compartment and sealed themselves in. For some time, they simply sat in uncomfortable silence waiting for the train to depart and take them away from the city. 

Once Vienna was nothing more than a collection of dark spots on the horizon, they all seemed to relax, but the compartment was still filled with a tension that was difficult to describe. The only sound for minutes had been a couple of quick spells by Harry to remove the charms he'd been using to disguise himself.

"How long do we have?" Ron asked, ending the silence.

Harry tried to work out the time. It shouldn't be more than three hours, but he couldn't remember how many stops there would be between Vienna and Oradea. Ron kept asking questions. None of them required much thought and it became clear that he was doing it out of a desire to avoid letting the room fall back into silence.

"Once we get there, where do we go?" Ron asked. It was the first real question he'd asked.

Harry decided that Ron was right. He had better use the time they had to explain the makeshift plan he'd been making in his head. "Once we get to the station, we leave and make our way to the Fireplaces. We'll take the Floo to a place called Oras-Maisus. We won't be able to get there, but the Floo will take us to the Gatehouse at the edge of the city. From there, we'll make our way to the Castle."

"The Castle?" Ron replied. "Is it abandoned? Won't someone be guarding it?"

"Of course," Harry answered honestly, "but not as many as usual. They rely on magical locks, but we've got keys." Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden ring on a simple chain. He handed it to Ron saying, "I have the ring Ginny took from her friend at the _Leaky Cauldron_. She has the one she took at Giza. This was Charlie's. It should be yours. He died defying Grigore and trying to help me."

A confused look appeared on Ron's face. "What about Hermione? Isn't she coming with us? If we only have three, then—"

"We have four of them," interrupted Hermione.

"What? How?" asked Ron. "Did you steal one from one of the blokes in the Department of Mysteries? Hermione said they weren't wearing them."

"They weren't," Hermione said. She wasn't looking at Ron. Instead, her eyes were focused directly on the floor of the compartment while her fingers twisted and pulled one of the buttons of her robes. "Harry, can we be alone for a while?"

Harry and Ginny nodded and stood up. They carefully checked the corridor before leaving the compartment and searching for a second one that was empty. It didn't take much looking. The train was mostly empty and once inside their new compartment, Ginny sat down and stared out the window at the scenery rushing past them. Harry concealed the door and sat down across from her.

"I— I have a bad feeling about this," she mumbled. "They're acting differently than they were in Giza. They were always so cautious and secretive then. I couldn't even prove they existed. Now they're setting up an ambush in the middle of Muggle streets." She looked up at Harry.

"This is a trap, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Probably." He leaned back in his seat and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't see any other choice, though. He'll start killing the Order. If that happens, I don't see how Josef can keep them from killing your parents, or Lupin, or who knows how many other wizards. We still have one advantage, though."

Ginny stared at him and waited for an answer.

"You," he said without looking at her. "Grigore won't expect me to bring you. He would never imagine that I would endanger you like that. He thinks that I'll do anything to keep you away from him."

"Then we'll use that against him," she said. "He won't attack me. So long as we're cautious, we should be able to keep each other safe."

Harry knew this moment would come. How could he explain it to her? What could he do to convince her that this was the best way?

"You're not going to be with me," he announced simply. "It's too dangerous. I need you nearby, but you can't follow me where I need to go. You need to stay away from that arch."

"And you don't?" she shot back.

"Please, just trust me," he begged her. He couldn't bring himself to tell her just why it was so important. "We can't have the distraction of fighting together," he explained instead. "If you're with me, there is nothing I can bargain with. So long as you're nearby and hidden, I still have something I can use if I'm captured."

Ginny turned to stare out the window again. "It's going to be bad, isn't it?" she asked. "They know we're coming, don't they?"

Harry didn't respond immediately. He simply nodded and looked out the window.

"Do you have a plan?"

Harry frowned to himself. "I know what needs to be done. Grigore is trying to do something horrible, and I know what needs to be done do to stop it. I can't let him use the Veil. If I succeed..." Harry's voice trailed off as he looked down at his hands. "I don't know what might happen —to me or any of us. I don't know what the Brotherhood will do. Ginny, I— There are things I might have to do—"

"I trust you, Harry," Ginny said in a gentle voice. "You're not like them."

"No," he replied. "No, I'm not." He knew it was true, and yet that fact no longer gave him any comfort.

What _was_ Grigore trying to do? He'd asked the question so many times that it had been a relief when he'd finally found an answer. He felt certain that he was right. It explained everything. And yet, another thought had been creeping around in the back of his mind for some time. He tried to ignore it, but it was becoming more insistent.

He told himself that he didn't want Ginny in the Veil Room because he was certain that Grigore meant to give her to whatever was on the other side of the Veil. He still wasn't ready to admit that he also didn't want her there to hear what Grigore might say. If he knew it would be all lies, he wouldn't have been as worried, but he was afraid that some of it would be the truth, and at times even he had a hard time separating the two.

They both sat in complete silence. Somewhere nearby, he knew Hermione was trying to explain to Ron why she had joined the same secret society of wizards that his brother had been working for when he died. Harry was glad that he didn't have to watch it, and yet, sitting alone with Ginny and knowing that he was leading her into a trap hardly seemed any better.

It wasn't fair. He'd barely had any time to spend with her. He shouldn't have hidden from her. He should have found her long ago. They'd had only twelve days, and now he was risking ending it all like this? He stared across the compartment at her, and wished he knew some way of apologizing for what he had done.

"I've always loved trains," Ginny announced in a clear voice. "There is so much you get to see. Charlie used to travel by train quite often. They would use them to transport the larger dragons. They were disguised to look like flat, empty cars to Muggles. They never had any idea that a dragon was rolling past them." She reached up to her eyes and wiped away a small tear. "I miss him."

"I know."

She nodded and wiped away another tear. "For a little bit, I thought I was going to actually like my job. It was... exciting. I guess there was a reason for that. When this is all over, I think I might still like it, though. Have you thought about what you would want to do?"

"Are you kidding?" Harry replied. "I'm rich. I plan on sitting around my house and doing nothing at all."

Ginny coughed and began laughing. It was the first time he'd seen her laugh in quite some time. It felt good, and Ginny seemed to agree. She slowly stood up and walked over to sit next to Harry. She rested her head on his shoulder and began talking.

For the rest of the train ride they talked about anything except the Brotherhood, Grigore Tarus, or unknown Dark Lords.

* * *

When the silhouette of Oradea Station loomed in the window, Harry reluctantly interrupted Ginny to tell her it was time to leave. He took a moment to quickly re-cast the charms to disguise himself before leading her back to the compartment Hermione and Ron had been in. They too had noticed their approaching destination. Neither of them looked quite as relaxed as Harry or Ginny, but it seemed that they had resolved any issues which might have been between them. 

Before the train had even stopped, they were walking to the rear of the train, searching for the door which would put them closest to the platform exit. After stepping off the train, they formed a tight group and began moving quickly toward the arched exit and the hallway which would lead them to a fireplace on the Romanian Floo Network.

Harry navigated the maze-like corridors, giving the others quick hand gestures to tell them what to do. They were in Romania now and no matter how easy it had been to get in, it wouldn't be as easy to get out and they knew it. There was no talking. They simply did as he said.

There was a pair of public fireplaces in a hidden chamber off the main ticketing area of the station. However, it would undoubtedly be watched by many more eyes than Josef could control. Harry had decided to head in the opposite direction. He knew of one other fireplace. It had been placed to give the few wizards who regularly worked at the station an easier way to come and go. After only a short walk, he found the door he was looking for.

"_Alohamora!_" he shouted, unlocking it.

He'd aimed his wand before he even had a chance to recognize the figure standing in front of the fireplace.

"Good evening, Harry," Dragomir greeted him.

Harry bristled at his voice and took a moment to aim his wand a little better. "Everyone inside the room," Harry ordered. Ron waved the women in, closed the door and locked it quickly with his wand.

"How did you know I'd come here?" Harry asked Dragomir.

"You didn't have a choice," the other wizard answered. "There are anti-Disapparation wards up and I have already disabled the other fireplaces."

"Are you here to help me or stop me?"

"That depends on where you're headed."

"I'm going to Oras-Maisus," Harry declared with finality.

"I was afraid of that," replied Dragomir. "I understand why you feel you must do this, but I think —in this case— that you're making a grave mistake."

"I'm sorry you feel that way. Are you going to try and stop me?"

Dragomir let out a frustrated sigh. "Can I assume that you've spoken with Andros and that he's already tried every method he could think of to stop you?" Harry gave a quick nod. "Very well, but remember that I told you this was a bad idea."

Harry shrugged, and grunted, "Fine."

"Grigore is still trying to prepare the Castle," Dragomir explained. "Brotherhood members are spread all across Europe and he's trying to call them all back. If you need to get in, you'll need a Ring —one for each of you who plan on entering."

"We've got them," Ron chimed in.

Dragomir frowned at him. "The fireplace will take you to the Gatehouse. Grigore has already locked the gate. You'll need a password."

"Do you have it?"

Dragomir looked even more uncomfortable. "Yes, I do. We are under strict orders not to give it to anyone else." He paused to stare at Harry. "Are you certain you wish to do this?"

"Tell me the password, Dragomir."

"The password is _tradare_."

Harry found himself speechless for a moment. It was worse than he thought, but there was no way he could turn back now. If he waited or retreated, it would only give Grigore a better chance to defend himself. He had to attack now before the rest of the Brotherhood returned.

"I understand now," he told Dragomir. "I never meant to put you in danger. I will do my best to—"

"Of course you didn't mean for this to happen, Harry," Dragomir replied, "and yet, here you are, standing before me and telling me that you are planning on doing everything we begged you not to. We have been trying to help you in every way we can. We have risked our lives for you, and you have not shown concern for anyone's life besides those of yourself and these three. I should have expected this. Josef said you would act irresponsibly. He has been right about you at every step. He told us not to trust you to act reasonably."

"Josef and I often disagree over just what is reasonable," Harry replied.

"You're risking much more than our safety, Harry," Dragomir said in a slightly patronizing tone. "You must understand the position this puts the Brotherhood in. If Grigore is correct, then we risk becoming unwilling minions to an even greater evil. And if you are right, then we may be walking into the biggest trap Grigore has ever created. Both worries could be lessened by simply waiting. If you are certain that you are correct, then in the name of all that you love: delay this plan. Time will show your position to be the correct one and more of the Brotherhood will be willing to aid you."

Harry was still unmoved. "That is not an option for me. I must stop him now. Do whatever you must, but if you stand in my way, I will fight you."

Dragomir glared at Harry and his friends. "We are not going to stop you," he told Harry, "but you are making it very difficult for us to help you. I assume Andros won't be very talkative today?"

Harry nodded. "No, he—"

"Do not tell me!" Dragomir shouted. "That is all I need to know. If you open the gate, I have no doubt that Grigore will know what I have done. My fate will rest in your hands, then." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "I hope that I have not made a mistake." He unlocked the door, opened it quickly and checked the corridor. "Goodbye, Harry," he said, "I do hope that we will meet again." With a nod toward Ginny, he turned and slipped through the doorway.

As the door clicked shut, Ron walked over to make sure it was locked again. Satisfied, he turned around and shot Harry a questioning look. "What was that about? What is so special about that password?"

Harry ignored Ron for the moment and pointed at Hermione's bag. "Do we have enough Floo Powder for four?" he asked her. She nodded, pulled the bag off her shoulder, and began rummaging in it.

Harry opened his bag as well and began searching it. Ginny walked over to his side and was now peering over his shoulder. He hadn't had much time to pack at Gringott's and now he was having trouble finding everything he remembered tossing into the bag. He pushed aside an extra Shield Cloak and finally found the last of them.

"I've got the Floo Powder," Hermione called out.

"Good," Harry replied. "Take everything you think you might need. We'll have to shrink the bags before we leave. Harry flattened his and shrunk it to the size of a large wallet.

"Harry, what are those?" Ginny asked, pointing to his left hand.

"Wands," he replied quickly, adding, "I've got one for everyone."

"Why do we need another wand?" Hermione asked.

"These aren't for casting spells," he said as he handed one of them to her. He then extended one toward Ron, and one to Ginny after Ron had taken his. He kept the last one and pocketed it.

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"Because they are copies of Voldemort's wand," Harry announced. Ron nearly dropped his, and Ginny held hers gingerly, as though sickened by the touch of it. Hermione, however, held hers up for a closer look.

"You made these?" she asked as she ran her finger along the grip. "They're amazing. When did you get the time?"

"They are duplicates of a copy I made before I hid the real wand. There are only a few people in the world who could tell they are only fakes. One of them is standing in this room."

"So where is the real one?" Ron asked.

Harry had anticipated that question, and he'd decided that it was best to completely ignore it. They would all be safer if he was the only one who knew where Voldemort's wand truly was. "Put them away. You'll need your real wands. We should be going." Harry turned and picked up a handful Floo Powder.

"Harry! I asked a question!" complained Ron. "I'm here because I trust you. It would help if you at least acknowledged one of my questions?"

Harry turned back toward Ron. "The password is a message to anyone who reveals it to someone outside the Brotherhood. The word _tradare_ is Romanian. It means _treachery_. The message is obvious. He _intended_ for me to learn it. Grigore knows that some members of the Brotherhood have turned against him. He knows we're coming. He's planning on dealing with all of us at once."

"Just how powerful is he?"

Harry shook his head. "Not as powerful as I am." Harry turned back to the fireplace and conjured a fire with a flick of his wand. "I'll go first," he told the others. "There should be at least two wizards keeping guard on the other side. They'll attack me the moment I appear. I need you—" he said while looking at Hermione "—to show up as quickly as you can and help me. Ron is next. Ginny is last." He stepped into the fire and gripped his wand firmly. "Listen closely to the name of the place. It can get rough if you say it incorrectly." Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tossed the Floo Powder into the fire.

"Oras-Maisus!"

* * *

Ginny watched as Harry disappeared in a tornado of green flame. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could feel her blood throbbing through the hand she was clutching her wand with. Ron was already reaching for a handful of Floo Powder as Hermione stood in front of the fireplace and waited for the fire to return. 

The world seemed to have slowed to a crawl. The fire was taking a painfully long time to reappear. As the first green tongues began flaring back to life, Hermione jumped from the hearth to the heart of the fireplace. Instead of leaving immediately, she waited a few agonizing seconds for the fire to grow stronger. Ginny wanted to shout. She wanted to grab a handful of powder and throw it into the fire herself. Somewhere far away, Harry was rolling out of a fireplace into a room full of wizards who had been trying to kill him for a year.

_Relax,_ she told herself. _Harry knows what he's doing._

"Oras-Maisus!" shouted Hermione. The walls of the small room flashed green, and Hermione was gone.

"Go, Ron, hurry!" she urged. Ron leaped into the fireplace as she grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. It was more than she would need, and her mother would have scolded her for wasting it, but she couldn't be bothered to be frugal at that moment.

Ron barely waited for the first signs of flame to return before he had thrown down his powder. The flames choked on the Floo Powder for a second, then exploded, showering the room in green sparks. He shouted, "Oras-Maisus" and was taken away by a smoky green whirlwind.

When Ginny stepped into the fireplace, the small fire was sputtering weakly. It would take too long to wait for it to return by itself, so she decided to give it a little help.

"_Incendio!_" she shouted, and bright orange flames blossomed across the wood. For an instant, the fire was hot —painfully hot— but the green flames quickly overtook the orange ones. Ginny tossed the powder into the flames and shouted:

"Oras-Maisus!"

It seemed to take forever for the flames to respond to her command. She closed her eyes, gripped her wand and pressed her arms tight against her chest. Just when she was about to open her eyes to see what she'd done wrong, she felt a gust of air rush from her feet to her head and lift her off the floor of the fireplace.

She opened her eyes and watched as a series of images of fireplaces whipped past her face. She could feel herself slowing down. She wasn't far. She tried to prepare herself. She needed to be ready in case something had happened to Harry. The spinning slowed drastically, and she felt the familiar shove telling her that she'd reached her destination. The darkness of the fireplace was drawn back like a curtain and she found herself rolling headfirst into a room filled with a soft yellow light.

That was when she first noticed the shouting.

She deftly found her feet and rolled into a low crouch. Ron wasn't far ahead of her. His wand was out and he had just stunned a wizard standing off to Ginny's right. Harry and Hermione were standing together on the other side of the room, firing hexes at another wizard who seemed to be hiding behind a shield the size of a small umbrella.

Ginny ran across the room, keeping as close to the side wall as she could. When she'd almost reached the far wall, she turned and took aim at the wizard. He hadn't seen her arrive. He was still holding his shield so that it sheltered him from Harry and Hermione. From Ginny's perspective, however, he was totally unprotected.

She remembered the lessons from earlier that day. Whoever this wizard was, he had been smart enough to protect himself. There was always the chance that he had included some form of shield item as well. She waited for Harry and Hermione to fire off another volley of curses, then, just as he was preparing to return fire, she cast her charm:

"_Incarcerous!_"

Instead of aiming for his chest or legs, she had pointed her wand directly at his head. The thin cords wound around his face and neck first, and then began wrapping themselves around his shoulders and arms. After a second, Ginny reached for the cords with her left arm and gave them a mighty pull. The wizard on the other end let out a muffled scream and then toppled to the ground.

Hermione ran over to him and hit him with a pair of curses to finish binding him and rendering him unconscious. When they were done, Harry nodded toward her and flashed a quick smile.

It took Ginny a second to notice the change. "Harry... your disguise, the charms—"

"I know," he said. "The wards here dispelled the charms. I knew it was going to happen. It surprised the three of them, though," he said, motioning toward the other two bodies. "I don't think they were expecting us to—"

Harry's voice was cut short as his head whipped around to look at the large doorway leading to the rest of the gatehouse. His arm straightened suddenly, pointing his wand back across the room. Ginny and Hermione turned to see what he was aiming at and found a boy standing just inside the room, staring at the body of one of the guards lying in the center of the room. Ron had already spotted him and had his wand pointed at him as well. Harry began slowly walking toward the young wizard. The boy's eyes opened wide and he took a step back toward the door.

"Stay where you are!" Harry commanded. The boy flinched in response and stared back at Harry's wand. Slowly, Harry lowered his wand. "We're not here to hurt you," he said in a soothing voice. "Just relax and I promise nothing—" The boy had turned and bolted for the door.

"Ron!" shouted Harry. "Stun him!"

Instead of doing that, Ron turned to scowl at Harry and lowered his wand. Harry let out an angry growl and broke into a run as he followed the sound of the boy's footsteps. Not knowing what else to do, Ginny took off after him as well. Harry beat her to the doorway, but came to an abrupt halt just on the other side of it.

The boy could still be seen running down the corridor. He had almost reached the enormous intersection where this corridor met with the one leading to the gate. Harry was staring at the boy, his wand was drawn and aimed, but he wasn't saying anything. Then just as Ginny was about to do what Ron hadn't, a crackling line of light like a golden bolt of lightning shot out of his wand and struck the boy's back. He collapsed immediately.

"Come on, we need to bring him back to this room," Harry whispered. "Quickly."

The four of them walked quietly down the corridor. Harry led them with his wand ready for anyone who might show up. Ginny stayed close behind him, ready to help. When they reached the boy's body, Harry stepped over it and walked forward to the corner. He motioned for Ginny to stand at the other corner.

Ron and Hermione gently turned the boy over onto his back. Ginny heard a shocked gasp from Hermione and turned back to see the boy's arms lying limply on the floor and his eyes frozen open in a lifeless stare.

"What did you do, Harry?" Ron asked quietly. "Did you kill him?"

"No!" Harry answered with a harsh whisper. "It's a paralysis hex. Now take him back to the parlor."

"Why?" Ron asked. "He'll be fine here,"

Harry turned away from the corner and strode back toward Ron. "No, he won't," he said through clenched teeth. "Now take him back to that room and don't use any magic."

Ron scowled at Harry, but did it anyway. Ginny kept watch at the corner for a little while longer. It was strange. She had expected to see more people walking about. Even if the Brotherhood was spread across Europe, there had to be other guards in the building. Where were they?

She felt a tap at her shoulder and turned to see Harry calling her back. She followed him back to the room at the end of the corridor. When they caught up with Ron, Harry stopped to help Ron carry the body back into the room.

"What was that about?" Ron snapped. "Did you just want to prove that you're in charge? Or is there some reason why—"

"I told you to stun him," Harry said firmly.

"He's just a boy," Ron growled. "He was scared. He wasn't going to tell anyone."

"Yes, and that's the problem," Harry retorted. "It was his job to guard that door. He's supposed to send up sparks to set off the alarms and then do _whatever it takes_ to keep us from leaving. If they find him at the end of that corridor, it will look like he ran instead of doing his job. When they find him here, they'll just think that a thirteen year old boy was paralyzed by the same wizards that overcame three of the city guards. For failing to set off the alarms, he'll only lose his job. For running, he would have lost his life."

Ginny stared at Harry. Had he thought of all that in the instant he'd seen the boy? It was impressive and a little frightening. While Ginny knew that she had been better than most of her classmates at Hogwarts, Harry seemed to have advanced far beyond the level anyone would have expected, even for the Great Harry Potter.

"We need to go," Harry announced. "This place should be better guarded than this. Something isn't right."

Harry led them out of the room and down the corridor. They stopped for a moment at the large intersection of the corridors before turning and moving down the main corridor just as quickly. Ginny searched the walls and floors for any evidence of the destruction she and Harry had wrought almost two weeks ago, but there was nothing.

They reached the gate earlier than Ginny had expected. They hadn't encountered a single guard in all that time, and it was obvious that Harry was getting quite paranoid.

"There should have been two guards here," he said to himself. "They are _always_ here. They're not allowed to leave. Only the Captain of the Guard can..." Harry stepped away from the gate and aimed his wand at its center.

"_Revelatio!_"

For a brief moment, a red pattern stood out across the doors, glowing like molten metal. Three figures were visible. Two of them, a J and a K were superimposed, so that they shared a single vertical stroke. The third figure was just a long diagonal slash, cutting from the right side of the gate to the lower left.

"Josef was here," Harry said with a bitter laugh, "and I would guess that he left something for us." The last figure on the gate to fade was the long slash and Harry followed it to a dark corner next to the gate. When Harry stood up again, he was carrying a large grey bundle. "Quickly. Everyone, grab a set of robes," Harry said.

Harry helped them all put on their robes, including golden waist-cords, and a large golden medallion embossed with the shape of a lion and hung from a chain which they were to wear about their necks. "The Brotherhood wears these when they go out into the city," he explained. "The golden medallion is a symbol of the Ministry and it lets everyone know that they're not to be bothered. With luck, it will work for us as well."

Once they were set, Harry shouted the password: "Tradare!" The doors groaned for a moment, then silently opened onto a darkened courtyard. Ginny stared at the scene just inside the gate and struggled to understand just what had happened. The courtyard was indeed beautiful, just as Tarus had said it would be, and yet its beauty was marred by a number of people sitting around the walls of the courtyard in dirty clothes, or laying on makeshift beds.

"Keep walking," Harry whispered. "Remember: We are Brotherhood members with Ministry business."

"Why are they here?" Ginny asked quietly as they skirted a small encampment of the derelict wizards.

"If I had to guess, I'd say that Grigore locked the gates and won't let them leave. We escaped one too many times. Don't think on it too much. It's no good trying to solve this problem now. We'll figure something out if we make it back here."

"—_when_ we make it back here—" corrected Ginny.

"Right. Of course."

They passed out of the courtyard and onto the beginning of the High Street which led to the Castle. In the distance, lit windows in the highest parapets could be seen peeking over the old buildings which made up the Lower City. Ginny's eyes kept seeking it out, wondering if Tarus were in one of the towers looking down on them, waiting for them to get close enough that he could hex them from some darkened window.

When they had walked half the distance, Harry began quietly explaining what they were supposed to do when they got to the Castle. He was going to help them get past the front gate, and show them how to get into the parts of the Castle where only Brotherhood members were allowed. Once he'd done that, they would need to split into pairs.

Ginny had known it was coming, but she still felt the urge to beg him to let her come with him. For Ron and Hermione, it was a little more or a shock.

"What are we supposed to do?" Ron asked. "Neither one of us have ever been in there. We can't— Wait. Neither one of us has been in there, have we?"

"No," Hermione answered weakly. "I— I didn't even know any other members. If anyone talked to me, I wouldn't know what to say."

"Don't worry about that," Harry commented. "If anyone gets close enough to talk to you, you'll have more problems than trying to think of the right way to greet them."

"So what do you want us to do?" Ron repeated.

"I want _you_ to keep Ginny safe," Harry replied. "Hermione will be coming with me."

"Wait— No. I'm not going to go hide while Hermione walks into a trap."

"We're all walking into a trap, Ron. I can't take Ginny with me, and Hermione is the only one who has a legitimate reason to be here. If someone stops us, Hermione is the only one who has a chance of explaining herself."

Ginny didn't really believe Harry. She knew what he was trying to do. He needed Hermione because she already knew what she was facing. Ron didn't. He couldn't. If Harry pushed him into that situation, there would be no telling how he might respond.

Harry and Ron walked ahead of Ginny and Hermione. As they walked, Ginny caught bits and pieces of a hushed argument. Ginny turned to speak to Hermione, but she didn't look like she was in the mood to talk. Instead, her eyes were focused entirely on the Castle looming in front of them. It stood atop the hill like a ghostly stone crown, and they were walking right into it.

Ginny's mind wandered to all the times she'd spoken with Tarus and all the things Albert had said to her. They were the only things she had that might help her through this. She didn't think any of it would really matter. Harry was right. They were walking into a trap. It wasn't the first time, but she didn't know how many more miraculous escapes he could possibly make.

Then it suddenly occurred to her. Of course, it wouldn't matter if Harry failed at whatever he had planned. Something told her that if he failed she wouldn't really care about escaping anymore. She ran ahead and tapped Harry on the shoulder.

"I think I know how we can escape!" she said excitedly.

"Not now," he growled.

"I won't have time after we get into the Castle," she told him. "It won't take long, I swear."

Harry didn't even turn to look at her. "Not. Now."

Ginny gave him a sour look, but relented a moment later when she saw a pair of shadowy figures standing in the path ahead of them. They seemed to have noticed her strange behavior and had turned to stare at the four of them. As they got closer the two guards began walking toward them.

"Names!" the one on the left shouted, "Quickly! You're not supposed to travel in groups larger than two."

"There's been an attack at the gatehouse!" Harry called out. "They need help. Someone might have escaped."

The moment he said it, Ginny knew it wouldn't work. The guards stiffened and reached for their wands. "Names!" the one on the left barked.

"My name is Harry," he replied. The two guards froze in fear and before they were able to pull their wands, Harry had made a slashing movement with his arm, shouting,"_Petrifacto!_"

The two guards didn't move, and Harry quickly put his wand away. "Act normal," he said over his shoulder.

Ginny wasn't sure exactly what behavior was natural when dealing with petrified guards. Harry showed her a moment later as he slapped one of them on the shoulder as he passed by. Ginny felt far too uncomfortable to do anything more than walk near them.

Once past the guards, they only had a long stone bridge to cross before reaching the front gates of the Castle. Ginny could feel the pace of her heart picking up as they reached the far side of the bridge. For a second, Ginny wondered how they would get past this next gate, but to her surprise, it began opening before they even reached it.

As they passed under it, the clatter of chains ceased, and the gate began lowering itself again. Ginny found herself in a familiar courtyard. They walked across the courtyard and through another gate, and into the large hall where the painting of a city on a hill in flames hung. As Harry led them down the unmarked corridors, Ginny began to see other familiar things. She knew they weren't far from the marble hall where they would be able to enter the more secretive parts of the Castle.

A few minutes later, they reached that room. As Harry stood in front of the rose colored marble of the wall, he turned back to Ginny. "This idea you have for escaping, can you do it from the other side of this door?"

"Yes," Ginny answered quickly.

"Alright," he replied. "You take Ron and you do whatever it is that you think you can do. Do you remember these?" he asked as he pulled out a gold coin.

Ginny looked closely at it. "The D.A. coins?"

"Right. When you feel it get warm, I want you to come back to this door as quickly as you can, whether you've finished what you're doing or not. I've got one for both of you."

Harry handed a pair of coins to Ginny and Ron. It looked as though he wanted to say something more, but instead he frowned and turned away. He reached under the collar of his robes and quickly pulled out the ring hanging around his neck. Holding it in his palm, he pressed his hand against the stone and was rewarded with a soft grinding as the door opened. He had his wand out and ready, but no one was on the other side of the door.

"Touch your talisman to the stone before you enter," he instructed them. "There are alarms. If you get to a locked door, touching it with the talisman will open it, but anyone who follows you without doing the same will trip the alarm."

Ginny was the last to press her ring against the stone and pass through the door. Once she was through, Harry tapped the other side with his wand and it began closing behind them.

Ginny's stomach felt as though it was filled with lead. Harry seemed uncomfortable as well and she recognized similar expressions on Ron and Hermione's faces.

"It's time," Harry said quietly. "We need to go." He didn't seem to want to look Ginny in the eye, and she knew why. She could feel the tears welling up and she didn't want him to see her like that either. He needed to be thinking about Tarus and the Brotherhood, not her.

"You're right," she croaked. "Come on, Ron. We need to go this way." She took one last moment to wave at Harry and found him looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "Goodbye Harry," she whispered.

She forced herself to turn away from him, and began walking down the corridor she'd pointed out to Ron.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Someplace dangerous," she answered.

"How far away is it?"

"I have no idea," she answered honestly. "Pretty far if we keep walking the wrong direction like we are now."

"What?" hissed Ron. "Why are we walking this way, then?"

"Because Harry needed to go the other way and he would have asked questions if we had walked any other direction. It was easier for him this way, trust me. Now shut up and keep your wand ready." Ginny stopped at a corner where another corridor split from the one they were walking down. She took a moment to look around. "I think we'll just turn around and go back through the door we just came through. There may not even be a way to get there from here."

"You told Harry that you needed to be on _this_ side of the door!"

"I know," she replied. "I had to lie to him. He never would have let us do this if he knew where we were going."

* * *

Harry and Hermione walked quickly down the corridors. It wasn't a difficult place to find once you knew that it actually existed. You simply had to keep taking whichever path led you deeper underground. There were hardly any other wizards walking about and on the only occasion where another pair of Brotherhood wizards passed by them, they merely nodded and walked along silently. 

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked as they descended a winding staircase.

Harry knew it would be best if he told her before she saw it. "At the heart of this castle is a veiled archway, very much like the one in the Death Room at the Department of Mysteries."

"One of the lost arches is _here_?" Hermione gasped.

"You've heard of them then? Good," he replied. "Do you know what wizards have been trying to do with them over the past hundred years or so?"

"Not really," she answered. "There are a few wizards at the Ministry who claim that you can use it for Divination, and one old man who claims that it's a horrible threat to everyone in the Ministry."

"It seems they're both right, to some degree." Harry explained what he'd learned from the book in Ginny's office and Hermione seemed to reach the same conclusion he had.

"You think that Tarus is trying to use it to make himself more powerful?"

"Powerful enough to become immortal," Harry added. "At least, that's what he thinks it can do. I think he's been deceived, though I don't know if it's by old age or something far more sinister. I think whatever power is on the other side of that arch has promised him power if he kills me or Ginny."

"Is that why you didn't want her to come with you?"

Harry nodded. "If she were there, there would always be the chance that he'd find some way to use us against each other. He has little use for you now that the Order is involved. It's probably lucky that you were able to find me before Grigore realized that."

"What exactly are we going to do when we get to the Veil?" she asked.

Harry didn't know just how he wanted to answer that question. "So long as Grigore and that gateway exist, the world won't be safe."

"Harry, you know what the arches are. Do you have any idea what destroying one might do?

"Yes, I know what they are, but I don't know what would happen if one was destroyed. I don't think anyone really does."

"Harry! This is serious magic we're talking about. These things aren't easily destroyed, and when they are, bad things happen."

Harry paused as the staircase made a sharp turn. "I'm not here to destroy the Veil," he said without emotion.

"Then why are we here? We need to stop him. If you're not— Oh my god."

It had only been a matter of time before she would figure out what he needed to do. He just hoped that she wouldn't abandon him now that she understood what needed to be done.

"I won't ask you to help," he said solemnly. "I only ask that you not try to stop me."

"You can't, Harry!"

"I faced Voldemort alone. I can face Grigore."

"No. This is different. Voldemort— He wasn't even human anymore," Hermione said in a rushed void. "He had nothing more than a shred of his soul. Tarus is a living wizard, Harry! He's arrogant and he's manipulative, but he's not evil."

Harry began walking again. "No, he's not. But he's not good either. He's... something worse."

Hermione grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face her. "And what are you?" she asked angrily. "He thinks you're evil. Is this how you'll prove him wrong?"

"I can't prove him wrong. He's already made up his mind." Harry wrenched his shoulder free and continued walking. They had reached a set of wide stairs that Harry remembered. At the end of the corridor, he could see a pair of doors shut tightly.

"You can't convince him, so you're going to kill him?" Hermione cried out.

Harry glared at her and gesture for her to keep quiet. "I don't have a choice Hermione," he said as he reached for his ring again. The iron doors weren't far away and he needed to move as quickly as he could. Somewhere above him, Ginny was trying to work out a plan for escape, and he hadn't thought of a good way of getting out of the situation alive.

"There must be some other option," Hermione pleaded as they stopped in front of the metal doors.

Harry pressed his hand against the metal of the doors and waited for them to open. The twin doors parted slowly to reveal the richly decorated hall which led to the Veil Antechamber.

"Well, you've got about two minutes to think of one," he announced.

* * *

Ginny pressed her ring against the iron doors and waited for them to grind open. She walked through the opening as soon as it was wide enough to slip between the doors and Ron followed close behind her after placing his ring against the metal as well. Ginny tried to remember how Josef had closed them, but they began closing themselves before she could even think of trying anything. 

They retraced their steps. Ginny didn't know just where they were or where she was supposed to go, but she remembered the painting and she remembered the path Grigore had taken her on the very first time she'd been in the Castle. Ron followed her silently.

When they reached the room with the painting, Ginny took another moment to try and make sure that she remembered where to go. Ron took a moment to stare at the painting. "It's a little violent for an Entrance Hall, don't you think?" he asked lightly. "What kind of message do you think it's supposed to send? _Go away or we'll burn your town to the ground?_"

"The town in the painting is this city," she explained. "I guess it's a memorial to the work they did to repair it. Come on. That's the hallway."

Ron turned to follow her. "Still," he said in a low voice, "it's not a very cheery thing to put next to the front door."

"It's just the truth, Ron," she said. "This isn't a cheery place."

Ginny walked as quickly as she could. She remembered the sloping corridors and tried to remember just how long it had taken her to walk there the last time. Suddenly the occasional doors recessed into the walls disappeared. She knew they couldn't be far. Up ahead of them, she could see a pair of doors, one on each side of the corridor. The one to the left had to be Grigore's study.

She stopped in front of the door and listened for the sound of footsteps. After quite a few seconds of complete silence, she decided to assume they hadn't been followed. The longer she stood at the door, the more likely she was to hear someone headed toward them. Ginny gripped her wand in one hand and held the ring in the other. She pressed the ring against the door and hoped that Grigore was trusting enough to allow any of the Brotherhood members into his personal study.

A second later, there was a sharp click, followed by a soft creak as Ginny pushed the door open. She slipped into the room quickly and shuffled to the side as her eyes scanned the curved walls enclosing the study. Ron was standing on the threshold, fishing down his robes for his own ring. "Just get in here," Ginny hissed. "You shouldn't need it. This part of the Castle is open to anyone." Ron paused and carefully stepped into the study, allowing the door to close behind him.

To her relief, the study was completely empty. It was darker than she remembered it. The large window in the ceiling was dark, showing the stars twinkling against the night sky. As they walked around the room candles flared to life and made it a little easier to see.

"Is that why we're here?" Ron asked pointing to a darkened fireplace recessed into the far side of the room.

"No," Ginny replied distractedly. She looked around the room. It was ringed with a collection of low shelves and cabinets. "We're looking for a Portkey," she explained. "It will be in a small wooden box —probably an expensive looking one, lined with purple velvet."

"Where are we supposed to look for it?"

Ginny let out a frustrated sigh. "Somewhere in this room," she said as she began searching the shelves in front of her. When she found nothing, she moved on to the set next to them, and then the cabinet next to them. Ron did the same, starting roughly half way around the room. Each time she opened a new cabinet, or looked into some dark space, she hoped that she would see a familiar box, but after going a third of the way around the room, she still hadn't seen it.

"Well, I'm back where you started. You're sure it's here?" Ron asked skeptically.

"This is where he said it was,"

"_He_ said it? You mean this Tarus bloke?" Ron said. "You know, Ginny, he might have been lying to you. He doesn't seem like the most trustworthy person, to be honest."

"He wasn't lying about this," Ginny replied. "He wouldn't have. He's got some bizarre obsession with keeping me alive. He promised me that it would be here. He wanted me to be able to visit him whenever I wanted."

"Right, in case you were in the mood to be killed?"

"He didn't want to kill me," she said. "I think he wanted me to join the Brotherhood." She closed the doors to another cabinet and shuffled over to look through another set of shelves.

"Well, it's for the best," Ron added in flat tone. "It looks like he was quite serious about his liquor, as well."

"Hardly," Ginny replied with a snort. "I met him in an abandoned pub in Egypt. It was filled with loads of bottles and he hadn't even touched them. I've never seen him drink anything but tea."

"If you say so," Ron replied, sounding rather doubtful. "There's a half-empty bottle of stuff I've only seen once before. Upham bought a flask of it after we won our first match of the season. He said it made Firewhiskey feel like drinking water."

Ginny spun around and jumped to her feet. "Show me the bottle!" Ginny ordered. Ron recoiled in surprise and held the bottle up for her to see.

Ginny felt her throat tighten. She strode across the room and snatched the bottle from Ron's grip. She knew immediately that she had seen the bottle before. It had been just yesterday when she had shattered one just like it against a wall of a room in the _Leaky Cauldron_.

'Where did you find this?" she barked at Ron.

"It was right there!" he replied defensively. "It was sitting right in the middle of the table."

Ginny had never seen any evidence that Tarus drank at all. She'd only seen one wizard who drank anything that strong, and his bottle had never been farther from him than an arm's reach. If it was here, there was a good chance—

"We've got to go!" Ginny hissed, suddenly very aware of the noise they had made.

Ron stared at her for a moment. "Is that it? Is that the Portkey? Why didn't—"

"It's not the Portkey," Ginny interrupted. "It's a sign."

This didn't appear to clear up any of his confusion. "What does it mean?"

"It means we walked into a trap," Ginny said. She pulled the stopper out of the bottle, put it to her lips and tipped it back quickly, swallowing a mouthful before pulling it away. She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes tightly until the searing pain had passed. She blinked her eyes and feeling the world sharpen around her. After stoppering the bottle, she tossed it back onto one of the chairs, and pulled her wand out. "Come on, we have to get out of here, _now_."

Ron followed as she ran to the door. Ginny stopped at the heavy door and pressed her ear against it, listening for any sound that might warn her of some sort of ambush. After a number of seconds of complete silence, she was certain that they were safe —for the moment. They would need to move quickly, though. Ginny reached for the doorknob, and opened the door quickly.

She took a single step before coming to a complete stop. Standing just inches in front of her were a pair of wizards. The closer one was tall, with hair hanging past his shoulders, and a calm, focused expression on his face.

"Good evening, Ginny," welcomed a familiar voice.

Ginny looked up into Albert's face and found a noticeably different man. Gone was his bright red hat and cheerfully lively eyes. In their place was a sheet of dark brown hair and the steady, piercing stare of a hunter.

"Don't call me that," she growled. Faster than she realized she could, she raised her wand to point directly at Albert's chest. She'd underestimated him and he'd escaped. It wouldn't happen again.

"_Enfracto!_" she shouted, but before she even saw the hex burst forth from her wand, things had gone horribly wrong. Albert had swung his left arm, knocking her wand arm off its target and slamming it into the stone arch lining the door. Ginny let out a shriek as sharp pains shot up her arm. It took all of her concentration to keep a hold of her wand.

Albert's concentration, however, was no longer on her. While still pinning her arm to the stone, he pivoted to point his wand past her and into the room. Ginny had only a fraction of a second to realize what he was doing.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he shouted. She heard a disgusted growl from Ron as his wand clattered off the wall next to Ginny. Albert released her arm and for an instant, Ginny saw her chance. She bent her arm to point her wand at Albert's head.

"_Stupefy!_"

Again, her curse missed its target as Albert viciously slammed the heel of his hand into the middle of her chest. Ginny stumbled backward two steps before colliding with something heavy and fast-moving. Ron had been diving for his wand, until she staggered into his path. His shoulder drove into the small of her back, flipping her over his back and spinning him off into the wall some distance from his wand.

Albert's strike had knocked the wind out of her, and Ron's shoulder had awoken the dormant pain in her back. She hit the ground hard and heard a horrible sound: the sound of her own wand rolling off under one of the nearby cabinets. She forced air into her lungs and twisted to look back toward the door.

Through watery eyes, she could see that Albert was already striding through the doorway with his wand pointed directly at her. Ignoring the throbbing in her back and burning in her lungs, she pushed herself to her knees and lunged toward her wand.

She heard Albert shout "_Incarcerous!_", and she even felt the tight cords wrapping around her waist, constricting against her aching back, but by the time she landed, the cords had disappeared in a puff of dust. She stared at her waist for a moment before remembering the dragonhide vest. When she looked up, she saw Albert striding toward her with an uneven gait and a very annoyed expression.

"Maurizio, take him," he said sharply. "The girl is mine."

Ginny reached under the cabinet and felt her hand close around her wand. The touch of it gave her courage and hope. She had to fight. Harry was depending on her. She could hear Albert directly behind her now. She pushed off the cabinet with one hand and spun around on her knees to face her attacker.

"_Stupe—_"

Before she could even finish shouting the incantation, Albert's hand had shout out and snatched her wand directly from her grasp. Ginny stared at her empty hand, dumbfounded. To her right, she saw Ron pressed into the wall, fighting the other wizard. Ron's grey cloak lay in shreds and he was struggling to keep his Shield Cloak. With an enraged shout, the wizard tore away the cloak and aimed his wand.

"_Stupefy!_"

The Ron collapsed against the wall. The wizard let out an animal-like growl and roughly pushed him to the ground with his foot. "Would you care to tell me just how you knew they'd be here, Aleksey?"

Ginny glared at the wizard standing over her. It wasn't Albert? The face looked identical, he was limping, and there was the bottle. She would have sworn it was left as some sort of gloating hint about the horrible mistake they had made. The wizard had seen the confusion in her eyes, and held up his right hand.

"New wand," he whispered with a smirk, then raised his voice for his companion. "I knew they would be here because instead of simply trying to guess what my prey would do, I took the time to truly get to know it. I've been following this one for some time. She's as clever and resourceful as a fox, but this vixen has lost her teeth," he said, waving her wand before pocketing it along with his own.

"What about Harry, then?" the wizard asked.

"I have only met him once," Albert said, shaking his head. "It will not matter. We have her. She will lead us to him, or him to us."

"We came here alone!" she shouted. "I don't know where he is."

"We will see," Albert said icily.

"Never!" Ginny shouted as she kicked her leg toward the leg she had broken only three days ago.

Again, Albert proved too nimble for her unprepared attack. He caught her leg by the ankle and gave it a mighty tug. Fresh pain shot through her hip as she was dragged across the ground toward the center of the room. She kicked and twisted but could do nothing to stop it.

"Her robes," Albert called out. "Take them." He let go of her leg while the other wizard fell upon her, pinning her to the ground while he pulled off the grey Brotherhood robes and the Shield Cloak she'd been wearing under them. As he tossed aside the cloak, he let out a surprised gasp: "What have we here?"

The wizard turned her onto her side and pinned her arms above her head with one hand. His other hand was running up her side from her waist. The sensation made her feel sick.

"Do you see this, Aleksey?" he said.

Ginny took advantage of the distraction and swung her legs up, driving her knee into the man's ribs. He let out a wheezing grunt and fell backward onto the floor. Ginny rolled the other direction and scrambled to her feet. She began running to the door, but somehow Albert was already waiting for her. Before she had taken more than a few steps, his hands where latched onto her upper arm and she felt herself being spun in a tight arc.

His hands released her and she was tossed into a small table next to one of the chairs. The edge of the table dug into her leg and she felt herself tumbling over the chair. Before she could get up, Albert was there, this time grabbing onto the shoulder of her vest and the waist of her jeans and throwing her into another chair. It had been a cushioned chair, but no amount of cushioning could absorb the shock of being thrown into a chair. It fell backward, taking her with it and crashing into the stone floor.

Ginny lay on the stone floor coughing and trying to breathe. Her ribs hurt, though not as much as she expected them to. She knew she'd bruised her arms and legs, and she could feel one of her cheekbones throbbing. Everything had gone so wrong. She had to fight, but what did she hope to accomplish?

She climbed back onto her feet and tried to keep her balance while the two wizards stalked toward her. Between them, she could see Ron laying on the floor and his wand lying nearby. Perhaps if she could get to it, she would have a chance.

Albert's limp was more pronounced than it had been earlier. The activity was still probably too much for him. Ginny took a chance, and ran toward him. As he reached out to grab her, she spun away from him, then stopped and swung her arm around in the other direction, hoping to punch him in the nose.

Albert caught her fist in a shockingly strong grip and stared at her coldly. "No more playing, Ginny," he growled.

"Don't call me that!" she shouted. "You're not my friend!" She tried to twist away from him, but he twisted the other way and Ginny felt as though her shoulder was about to explode. Her legs buckled and she felt herself fall to the floor

A second pair of hands latched onto her other arm and together the two wizards pulled her arms taut, making it impossible for her to struggle as they dragged her toward one of the chairs. Ginny thrashed her legs, but it was useless. All she managed to do was kick a small table, dumping an expensive looking candlestick to the ground and giving her yet another bruise on her leg.

She felt herself be tossed into a tall, stiff-backed chair. Perhaps some part of her expected it, but when she felt familiar texture of dragonhide against her wrists she panicked. She struggled, trying to pull her arms away before the straps could be tightened beyond hope. When she knew she had failed, she resorted to the only thing she had left.

She took a deep breath, and screamed.

Both wizards flinched at the ear-splitting sound, but Albert recovered first. He stepped in front of her, brandishing a third dragonhide strap. Knowing exactly what he was threatening to do, she relented and simply sat silently, glowering at him.

"Maurizio, go tell the guard that everything is in order here," ordered Albert.

"But Grigore said we were to remain in pairs until—"

"We were to remain in pairs to prevent fools from being waylaid by any of them. Grigore has others following Harry and the Granger girl. He would be much more upset if he were distracted by an alarm caused by the pointless wailing of a captured prisoner. I don't believe my injury has weakened me to the point where I feel threatened by a stunned wizard and a bound witch —no matter how... spirited she might be." Albert turned to glare at the wizard imperiously. "Now _go_, but do not rush back. I think Ginny and I need some time alone. We have much to discuss."

At that, the wizard's eyes darted over toward Albert. "Very well, Aleksey, but do not forget that Grigore wanted her unharmed."

"I will try to remember your concerns," said the wizard Ginny knew as Albert. "I will do everything I can to ensure she is not injured."

The other wizard frowned a little and nodded his head in a slight bow before turning and striding toward the door at a quick pace. Albert walked after him, though much slower and with a noticeable pause as he put weight on his injured leg. From the corner of her eye, she watched him pick up Ron's wand and tuck it into his pocket before walking back to her.

She glared at him the entire time. "If you do anything to me, Harry will kill you, I swear. He's different now. He could do it."

Albert pulled another chair in front of her and sat down. "I believe you," he said as he sat back. "However, I cannot foresee many outcomes of this night which do not put my life in immediate peril, so I am afraid that your threats will do little to alter my course." He paused to take a deep breath. "Now, why did Harry come here?"

Ginny stared back with emotionless eyes. "He's not here. Ron and I came alone. Harry stayed in London."

"Now is not the time to start lying to me, Ginny."

"And why not, _Albert_?" Ginny sneered. "Or is it Aleksey? Maybe I should have started lying to you from the very start, like you did with me."

"I have not lied to you."

"You said your name was Albert!" she spat.

"No," he replied calmly, "I only said that you might call me Albert. I could not have a pub full of British wizards calling me Aleksey, could I? The patrons of the _Leaky Cauldron_ are a suspicious lot."

"You knew Harry was alive," Ginny said, resolving herself to the fact that dozens of wizards had known this far longer than she had. "You knew what he meant to me and you never told me."

"You never asked," Albert said lightly. "There are many, many things which I have not told you and which you have never asked about. Are they lies as well? Was I lying by not telling you every detail of my thoughts?"

"You said you only had one of those bottles," Ginny said, with a nod toward the bottle still sitting on the center table. She was trying desperately to find something to win the point.

However, Albert just smiled back at her. "And is that a lie?" he asked himself while stroking his chin. "What exactly would a lie be? A discrepancy with the truth?" he asked her. "The rub there is the idea of _truth_. In the end, _truth_ is simply a perception of the world, no matter how many may share it. And perception is more opinion than fact."

"You're twisting words."

"All words are twisted," replied Albert. "They are merely another aspect of truth. What I told you was truth. Albert had only one such bottle —and now he has none, by the way. Aleksey has many, many bottles. When I said it, you knew only Albert, and in your perception of me —in your world— what I said was truth. Now your perception has changed, and so your truth has also changed, but it hasn't brought you any closer to finding the one universal truth."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. "What is it that you want from me?"

Albert looked down at his hands, adopting an almost sorrowful expression. "There was a time when I would have asked for other things," he said slowly. "Your help. Your friendship. Even your respect. All of these things I have dreamed of. In you, I found a hope and resilience that I thought I had lost long ago."

He paused to look at her. There was something strange in his eyes. It was a look of sadness and confusion. "You said that Harry has changed, and I fear that I understand all too well. You, too, have changed. Your hope has darkened and your resilience has weakened to rely upon another. And so, as you failed, so have I. I can see now that I no longer know the right path. The light I have been following has led me astray, and I am lost. Like you, I am left to follow the only leader I can find. I will do what tasks I am assigned, and I will hope that the world will forgive me for whatever damage I may do in my folly."

"Albert, what are you saying? What are you going to do?" Ginny asked in a wavering voice. "What have you done?"

Slowly, Albert reached into his robes and pulled out a small wooden box. He opened it revealing a shining silver key resting on a bed of purple velvet. "I believe this is what you were looking for," he said in a low voice.

Ginny said nothing but simply looked at the key. She never had a chance. She watched as Albert pulled a small scrap of paper from inside the box and then closed it tightly. Ginny flinched as he pulled his wand out of his pocket, but relaxed a little when he pointed it at the parchment instead.

A tiny line of fiery light shot from the tip of the wand and inscribed a series of glowing letters onto the parchment. Albert folded the parchment once, then put the tip of his wand to the corner and incinerated it.

"It is done," he said in a melancholy tone.

His eyes stared blankly at the box in his hand. "Before my colleague returns, I want you to know that I understand the reasons behind all the things you have done. You are not to blame. We are merely playing the roles we were assigned." His eyes stared into hers. "I want you to know that I forgive you," he said solemnly. "I forgive you for everything you have done. I only hope that before— before the end, you will find enough hope and resilience to forgive me."

* * *

**Author's Notes**: 

Sorry for the delay. I've been working on a number of things, including the outline for the two sequels to this story. I've already finished this one and I'll be uploading the two remaining chapters very soon. If you're impatient, you can read the rest of it here: http/ 


	24. The Veil Chamber

**CHAPTER 24**

**The Veil Chamber**

* * *

Harry slowly walked through the giant doorway, pulling a reluctant Hermione behind him. "Something isn't right, Harry," she hissed. "If this is the right place, where is everyone?"

"I don't know," he replied just as quietly. "I hope that they're all waiting for us in the last chamber," he said nodding toward the descending corridor at the end of the room.

"You _hope_?" Hermione said in a sharp whisper. "What are you trying to do, Harry, kill us both?"

This finally got Harry to pause. He spun about and stared at Hermione. "There are only two people in this castle that Grigore is concerned about. If he's not here, then it means that I've made a horrible mistake. Ron won't let them take her. You've studied them long enough to know what they'll do if he gets in their way."

Hermione's face paled. "Why didn't you tell them?" she asked weakly.

"Ginny knows what's at stake, here," he replied. "She'll see that the right thing is done. If Ron knew, he would never have let us split up. He's the best mate a wizard could ever hope for, but he's lousy at taking risks or seeing when they are necessary."

"And you're too willing to take them," Hermione whispered as she jabbed her finger into his chest. "You're so afraid to plan for the possibility that you've made a mistake that you're going to guarantee it by walking into a small room filled with wizards who wouldn't even lose a minute of sleep after killing you?"

Harry felt a tightness in his chest. "How did you know the room is small?" he asked with a piercing glare.

Hermione returned a withering glare. "Are you completely mental? You're going to choose this moment to question my honesty? You? The wizard who hasn't been willing to be honest with anyone for over a year?"

Harry blinked his eyes and felt his head clear. He rubbed at his scar and felt it was already warmer than the surrounding skin. The veil was affecting him already. His muscles were twitchy and tight. His heart was beating faster than usual and it felt as though hot and icy blood was mixing in his veins.

"I'm— I'm sorry, Hermione," he stammered. "I don't have time to think up some brilliant plan. I don't know if I have time for anything. I can already feel it," he added in a soft voice.

"Come on, then," she said with a frown. "I hope you're as dangerous as Tarus says you are."

Harry turned to look toward the far archway. "That's the worst part," he mumbled. "I think I am."

Leading the way with her hood down and wand drawn, Hermione crossed the rounded hall cautiously. Harry followed behind her, more wary of what might be behind him than whatever he was walking toward. They paused near the wide arch and crept to either side before peering around the corners.

Harry had expected to see at least a pair of Brotherhood wizards at the bottom waiting for them, but there was nothing. Harry glanced back, but the hall behind them was just as empty as the one at the end of the sloping corridor before them. Putting the tip of his wand to his temple, he muttered a simple charm which would let him see anyone who might be concealed by an Invisibility Cloak or some other spell, but there was nothing.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked.

"Yes."

Harry turned and strode down the corridor. He already knew what he would now find at the end. Hermione jogged to catch up to him, Harry entered the small antechamber and found it just as empty as he expected. He heard Hermione enter behind him, but didn't turn to see the concerned look he was certain she was giving him. Instead, he was staring at the doors.

The gold trim marking the points where the enormous doors came in contact with the surrounding stone was duller than one might expect. The surface was not smooth, but engraved and embossed with a pattern of interlocking, swirling shapes: snakes coiled and poised to strike, lions snarling with their claws bared and wisps of smoke wrapping around them all.

The voices were getting louder in his head. They were calling out to him, shouting for him to turn away. He wanted to do as they said, but there was another voice. Growing in volume over the others, it urged him forward. It was the voice of something dark, something horrible. If he ran, his nightmares would never be free of the sight of it. He had to face Grigore. He had to stop him. He had to end it.

"It's on the other side of those doors, is it?" Hermione asked gently.

Harry simply nodded.

"Very well," she said resignedly. "We'll do it together, then?"

Harry stared at the door and ran his hand down the gold border where the doors met in the center. He felt the room tremble around him and the throbbing in his scar increased. He nodded slowly.

"Together."

Harry pressed his hand firmly against the doors and felt them shudder under his touch. When he turned to look at Hermione, he knew that she would understand the look on his face. Her wand was out, but she barely had time to register the sudden change. His wand flicked toward her in a quick slashing motion. Without a word, she was thrown backward as if pulled by some invisible rope.

Harry turned back toward the door and gave them a mighty shove. They opened quickly with a slight grinding noise. When the space between them was just wide enough, Harry leaped forward, bringing his wand forward in a whirling movement around him.

"No!" Hermione screamed from behind him.

The world about him seemed to slow down. In an instant he surveyed the room. There were more Brotherhood wizards than he could have expected. It was truly a task beyond anything he had ever accomplished. However, he reminded himself, he didn't have to defeat them all —just one of them. As he sailed out over the first three steps, blocking two hexes with his hastily cast Shield Charm and letting two more miss him by inches, his eyes locked on his only target: Grigore Tarus.

He was standing on the lowest step, off to the left of the central floor and raised platform. Harry felt his left foot land on the stone step, and before his other foot landed, he was already turning to jump off toward Grigore. With another leap, he skipped yet another step as he aimed to land on the step below it, thus closing half the distance from the door to Grigore in less time than anyone could hope to anticipate.

As he flew toward the fifth step, he saw a swarm of hexes flying toward him. Few of them were close enough for him to even notice, but there was no need for accuracy when thirty wizards were facing one. Harry felt something hot strike him on his hip. The hex bounced off his Shield Cloak harmlessly, but it pushed him off balance, and instead of landing nimbly on his feet, he landed on one foot, a knee and his only free hand.

He glanced up and saw Grigore's wand pointed toward him. He raised his own wand, shouting "_Enfracto!_" as he rolled behind the shelter of the step to his left. The old man dodged the hex, though he nearly dropped his wand in the effort. Harry felt a second curse ricochet off his back as he got his feet back under him.

He'd lost his advantage. All around him, wizards were leaping down the steps to help and protect Grigore. He needed to give them something else to do. His wand arm lashed out toward the central platform. He didn't know if he was willing to destroy the arch, but he hoped that Grigore was even less willing to see it destroyed.

Confirming his hopes, Grigore shouted above the racket: "_Protect the arch!_"

At the same time that Harry shouted "_Reducto!_", he heard at least ten other wizards shouting "_Aegeo!_" As his curse shattered against the impervious shield cast between him and the arch, Harry darted forward, trying to get another shot at Grigore. A tall wizard leaped down from above to stand only a few feet away. Harry dropped his shoulder and drove it into the man's stomach, tossing him down to the step below. Somewhere in front of him, he heard Grigore shout something indecipherable.

In a split second, Harry's wand was pointed at the old wizard, and he heard himself shouting "_Expelliarmus!_" The two spells collided and bounced off crazily. Grigore's hex hit a wizard behind him, dropping the wizard to the floor immediately. Harry didn't pay any attention to where his went. He was already aiming for his second chance.

Another figure jumped between him and his target. "That's enough, Harry!" the man shouted. Harry recognized the voice, but it didn't matter. It was the voice of one of the many wizards he had taught a year ago. He had looked up to Harry, and Harry had counted him as a friend. That had been a year ago, and now they were enemies. The wizard grabbed Harry's wand arm, and he felt fury surge though his veins.

He wrenched his arm free, shouting "_Sectumsempra!_" He heard the man cry out as a deep cut slashed across his face. The wizard dropped his wand, but remained standing in Harry's way. With a second slash across the man's knees, his legs buckled and he toppled off the step, leaving Harry another clear shot at Grigore.

"_Percutio!_" Harry shouted.

A jet of purple light ripped through the air. Grigore muttered something, and raised his wand. He succeeded in blocking the worst of the hex, but the impact knocked him to his back and broke his wand, sending the pieces flying into the steps behind him.

Harry sprung forward, aiming his wand for what he knew would be the last hex. Grigore was sprawled across the ground, clutching at a bleeding hand and shouting to the ceiling: "_No!_ No Killing Curses! No Magic!"

For a moment, Harry thought he was begging for mercy, but reality struck him a second later, in the form of a heavy shoulder ramming into his back. His spell veered wildly, hitting a stocky wizard running down to help Grigore. A second later, Harry felt another wizard jump down onto his arm, bending it toward the ceiling. A third wizard struck him, then a fourth, each of them grappling onto him and pulling him to the stone floor. Harry felt pain shoot up his arm as one of them slammed his wrist into the edge of the step. Suddenly, he felt a horrible emptiness in his hand. They'd taken his wand.

* * *

Ginny sat silently in the chair, though not willingly. She was beginning to lose the feeling in her arms and her throat ached with the restrained desire to scream. Albert was crouched over Ron, no doubt tying him up as well.

The rage building in Ginny's stomach was enough to frighten her. The thought of Ron being bound by a wizard who Ginny had accepted as a friend sickened her. She'd trusted him. She'd believed him. He had cheered her up and protected her, but it was only an act. He had been using her. Dobby was dead because she had been stupid enough to get drunk and trust a stranger.

With a jab of hatred, Ginny watched as Albert hauled Ron to his feet and dragged him across the room to sit in another chair. He was wearing his Shield Cloak again, but his hands were tied behind his back, forcing him to lean forward limply.

Albert walked over near Ginny, but not too close. He tried to give her a sympathetic look, but she scowled at him and strained against the dragonhide straps. He frowned and backed away. "I'm sorry it has to be this way," he said with a voice that almost sounded genuine. "Please, you must trust me, Ginny—"

"Don't—" Ginny snapped, "—call me that. You're not my friend. You don't know me. I don't know you."

"Listen to me," he said harshly, "If you value your life, you'll—"

He was cut off suddenly by a harsh whining coming from his robes. He frowned and pulled a golden watch from his pocket. The noise stopped after he tapped its face. His lips curled back in a snarl and he swore as he spun around. As he strode toward the door, she heard him complaining under his breath: "I told that moron that he was supposed to see that the alarm wasn't set off. I'll kill him." He stalked toward the door with the watch still clutched in his hand. He opened the door and leaned out into the corridor.

"Maurizio, you incompetent simpleton!" he shouted down the corridor. "I told you to see that the alarm was _not_ set off! You turn around and see that it's turned off immediately!" He slammed the door and walked back toward Ginny, pacing impatiently.

The door to the study opened again, and Albert turned around to snarl at the wizard in the doorway. "Couldn't you hear me? I said turn it off!"

"The alarm wasn't set off up here," the wizard named Maurizio replied evenly.

Albert spun about again and with two long strides he was beside Ginny. Ginny felt a strong hand grab her by the jaw and turn her head to look directly into Albert's eyes.

"What is Harry doing?" he asked forcefully. "You must tell me. You have no idea how sorry you will be if you—"

His attempt at threatening her was interrupted by a series of high pitched chirps from his left hand. He quickly released Ginny and looked at the gold watch. For a moment, Ginny was certain she saw a look of anger and frustration pass across his face and she felt a rush of happiness.

"Something wrong, _Aleksey_?" she sneered.

He wasn't smiling. "Nothing for you to celebrate about," he said darkly. He turned about to face the other wizard, and announced: "They've got him."

Maurizio smiled. "Finally," he said grimly. "What about the pawn? What was her name? Granger?"

Albert nodded slowly. "Her, too."

* * *

Harry and Hermione were left unbound on the steps of the Veil Chamber, but there was no chance for escape. They were surrounded by ten wizards with wands drawn, all of them simply waiting for the smallest movement which might be seen as threatening. Two of the Brotherhood wizards were still on the floor. One was still unconscious after being hit by the spell Harry had blocked, the other was lying bandaged but still bleeding one step below Harry. Grigore was standing before Harry and Hermione, nursing his bleeding hand and refusing attention from a pair of Brotherhood wizards.

"Did you come here to kill me, Harry?" Grigore asked. Harry answered only with a smoldering stare. "What made you think that you might succeed? What secret do you possess that would give you the advantage? Certainly you didn't think that your antics back in London would do anything to weaken our protection." He paused, looking deeper into Harry's eyes. "Perhaps it was something else," he mused. "Perhaps you came here _knowing_ you would fail. That is it, is it not? You came here looking for an end and not caring whether it was yours or mine."

"Why don't you give me my wand and find out?" growled Harry.

"Why not use the other wand you brought?" challenged Grigore. "I know you, Harry. You are brash and impatient, but you are also clever when you need to be, and right now you are in some dire need of cleverness." He leaned closer to Harry. "You have only two things with which you might bargain: the wand and the girl. I know she is here somewhere," he asked in a mockingly kind voice. "If you tell me where that might be, I will do everything I can to see that she is protected from the fate you have created for her."

"I can't remember," Harry answered with a smile.

"Don't toy with me, boy," Grigore spat. "If you care for—"

He was interrupted by the sound of someone pushing the giant stone doors open. Grigore looked up to see who the newcomer was. Harry's eyes darted toward the wand of the nearest wizard, but none of them moved an inch. They all kept their wands pointed directly at him and Hermione. If only he could find some way to get a message to her...

"They've got her," a voice announced from the doorway. "She and her brother were rummaging about in your study."

Harry felt his throat tightening, and it was only made worse by the satisfied look on Grigore's face. He signaled the wizard with a quick gesture before turning back to Harry.

"That answers the first riddle. What of the second? Where is the wand, Harry?" he asked smoothly. "You brought Ginny, but I cannot believe that you thought she would be enough to protect you. And I know that you would not risk giving her the wand, so where have you put it?"

"What do you care? You just want to kill me!"

"No," Grigore disagreed sharply. "No, that is the last thing I wish to do. This whole situation was caused by the inability of a wizard to find a way to kill you. I'd rather not fall in the same trap."

"So why am I still here?" Harry asked with a mocking smile. "You're not going to kill me, so I'll just be off then. We'll just go back to the good old days where I convinced your supporters to help me, and you had them murdered, then?"

Grigore wasn't smiling. "You always did like your inappropriate humor. No, Harry, I can't let you go either. I can't even imprison you. You are far too dangerous to be left alive, but I won't allow myself or anyone else here to risk an attempt at killing you. Your life must end, and the only wizard here who I trust to do that is you, Harry."

* * *

"We need to bring them down to the chamber," Maurizio told Albert. "Grigore said we were to find them and take them there as soon as it was safe."

"Yes, and I'm not convinced it is," Albert replied.

Maurizio stiffened and glared at him. "Grigore was very specific. She was to be taken down _immediately_."

"And my orders were equally specific," bristled Albert. "She doesn't leave this room until he comes for her."

"Until _who_ comes for her?" Maurizio asked. "Whose orders are you following? Why does he have that cloak on?"

"I'm following the Brotherhood's orders," snapped Albert. "The orders were that they should be brought down just as they arrived, and you would do well to remember who was put in charge of this task."

"I remember," Maurizio said. "Grigore might have put you in charge, but he sent me to see that it was done _right_. Now, if you don't start taking them down, I'll report to Grigore."

"If you leave this room, I'll have your head in a box," threatened Albert. "Do not test me."

For a moment Maurizio simply stood in place and stared at Albert. Ginny was certain that he would back down and do as he was told, but she was wrong. With a resolute look on his face, the shorter wizard turned and stepped toward the door. Albert flashed a perilous expression and pulled his wand, but it did nothing to stop him. He reached for the door and slowly opened it.

Through the small space between the stone frame of the door and Maurizio, Ginny could see that the corridor was no longer empty. Standing just outside the door with his wand already drawn was a wizard she recognized almost immediately. She felt a flash of hope.

Josef roughly shoved Maurizio back into the room and slammed the door behind him. He threw a sharp glance at Albert. "You were going to let him leave?" he barked. "You had explicit orders to wait for me!"

"He would not have made it out the doorway, I assure you," replied Albert.

"He disobeyed you?"

Maurizio finally spoke up. "Grigore himself told me to see that Miss Weasley was taken to the Veil Chamber as soon as the path was safe."

Josef shoved him again. "And what made you think that the way was safe? Have you been watching the corridors? What if he had brought a gang of his Auror friends?"

Maurizio was undaunted. "She is to be brought down _immediately_."

"She is to be brought down once _I_ say it is safe," Josef shot back. "Don't worry, my impatient friend. We will take her down momentarily, and I'm certain Grigore will reward you appropriately for your mindless obedience of orders. Now, I'll take their wands."

Reluctantly, Maurizio handed Josef Ron's wand. "He took Miss Weasley's wand," he said with a nod indicating Albert.

Josef nodded and let out a short laugh. "I suppose I understand why. He has done more to bring her here than anyone else. He deserves his little trophy. Still, the orders were specific." Josef walked over to Albert and took her wand. He pocketed the wand, saying, "I will speak to Grigore. Perhaps I will return it when we are finished." He was still smiling as he walked over to Ginny's side. He stopped as their eyes met, and she saw his expression change rapidly from amusement to outrage.

"What have you done to her?" he asked Albert. "She was not to be hurt!"

Albert crossed his arms and frowned. "I am afraid our friendship has entered a bit of a rough patch," he reported.

"So you beat her?"

"I was forced to resort to more physical means to subdue her, yes," Albert admitted, adding, "She is not injured. She can still walk, I'm certain, and I would bet my wand that she'd be able to run if given the chance."

"She's _wandless_," growled Josef. "You could not control a wandless, seventeen year old girl? Grigore would not be pleased to see her like this."

"Then he can come get her himself," Albert scoffed.

"I assure you, he will not," replied Josef coolly. "Nonetheless, he will see her shortly, and I will not let him see her with half her face swollen and bruised. Fix her while I revive her brother."

Ginny watched as Josef walked over toward Ron and placed the tip of his wand against Ron's shoulder. The wand glowed softly, and Ron's body stiffened an instant before his snapped back to look at the wizard in front of him. It took him only a second longer to notice Ginny.

"What did you do to her?" he growled. "If you don't untie her this instant, or I'll—"

"_Silencio!_"

Ron's mouth kept moving, but no more sound came out. "Or you'll do what?" mocked Josef. "Kill me? Even Harry failed to kill me. You couldn't even give me indigestion." He turned back to face Albert. "What are you waiting for?" he shouted. "Grigore is waiting. Mend her and be quick about it! Maurizio!" The other wizard perked up. "Help young Mr. Weasley to his feet and then give him a leash around his neck. He's far too fiery to trust on his feet. He'll have to choose between running or breathing."

Ginny stared at Josef. He had betrayed them as well. It had all been an enormous trap —the biggest trap of them all. Albert had used her. Grigore had used her. Even Josef had used her. She was the bait they had used to catch Harry. All the scheming, lying and planning, it had all been done to set up this one moment. They had played upon Harry's emotions: his need to keep her safe and his desire to help others.

And they had succeeded.

"Now, keep still and don't do anything stupid," warned Albert as he approached her with his wand out. "I'm just going to clear up those bruises."

"Why would I want to stop you?" Ginny said through clenched teeth. "I'd want to look my best, wouldn't I? It's not every day that I get to meet a Dark Lord. I wouldn't want him to get angry and kill me like every other wizard who's stood in his way."

"You have nothing to fear from Grigore so long as you keep your wits," Albert replied as a gentle warmth spread across Ginny's bruised cheek. He leaned over her a little to aim his wand at her upper arm. "Grigore will not hurt you so long as—"

Ginny had spotted an opportunity and taken it. As Albert was looking away from her, she had quickly hooked a foot behind one of his legs and kicked hard with her other foot. His leg twisted suddenly, knocking him off balance and dropping him to his hands and knees on the floor. Ginny picked her legs off the ground, curled into a tight ball, then pushed her legs out with all the force she could. Her heels struck Albert in the side of his head, sending him sprawling across the brightly colored rug and knocking his wand from his hand.

Though she might have disabled him for the moment, Ginny knew it was a pointless victory. Her arms were still bound tightly and Albert was already too far away for another attack. Instead of giving them the satisfaction of seeing her struggle uselessly, she sat with a silent dignity and glared at the wizard on the floor.

"Traitor!" she spat.

Albert slowly got back to his feet, and retrieved his wand. He quickly tapped the side of his head, mending whatever injury she might have given him. He stood beyond the reach of her legs and stared back at her.

"Yes," he said with a nod. "Maybe I am a traitor. And maybe I am a hero. Perhaps I am both. Are you wise enough to see how I will be remembered?"

"Enough," Josef interrupted with a smirk. "I think I understand now, Aleksey. She certainly is spirited," he commented as he walked right up to Ginny and looked into her eyes. "I am glad. That will be very useful tonight."

Ginny felt her stomach tighten as she wondered what Josef could have meant. She focused on keeping her face blank and expressionless. There was no use fighting them now or here. Her energy was best saved for some other moment when she might have some chance of actually accomplishing something.

Josef kept his wand trained on her while Albert untied her arms and lifted her to her feet. Once she was standing steadily, he ordered her to put her robes and cloak back on, then tied her hands behind her back much like Ron's. However, instead of the smooth, unyielding texture of the other dragonhide straps, the new straps felt much more coarse. She almost wished she was back in the chair sitting again.

"Maurizio, you lead Mr. Weasley," Josef announced. "Albert, I want you at Ginny's side. I will follow you and see that no one gets any ideas about escaping."

Albert walked over to Ginny and held her arm gently but firmly. He looked into her eyes for a moment, then turned to look at Josef. "It's time?" he asked.

"Yes, Aleksey," Josef replied solemnly. "It's time to go kill a friend."

* * *

"I don't know what you expect," Harry said, "but I won't help you. Not anymore."

"We will see," Grigore replied heavily. "I do not believe that you wished to separate yourself from Ginny to keep her hidden from me. I think you are trying to hide yourself from her."

"You're mental."

"It's been two weeks since you revealed yourself to her," Grigore began smoothly. "In all that time, have you never told her what you are?"

"She already knows what I am," Harry shot back. "Nothing you say will change that. She didn't believe your lies before, and she won't believe them now."

"We will see," Grigore replied in an emotionless voice. "I have worked very hard to keep her safe, but I have not lost sight of my ultimate goal. If in the end, she stands in my way, I will not hesitate. I have worked too hard and too long to be stopped by some foolish girl and her infatuation.

"I am not as weak or feeble-minded as you might hope," he declared. "Though my wand might not be as fast as yours—" He paused to hold up his bloody hand. "—my eyes still see as well as they always have, and my ears still hear everything that goes on in this castle."

Grigore turned toward Razvan Lupescu, who had been standing behind him silently. "Dragomir and Andros," he called out, "where are they now?"

Razvan stepped forward, and spoke up: "Dragomir arrived just after Harry. He should have taken his assigned post in the antechamber. We have not seen or heard any sign of Andros."

Grigore raised an eyebrow. "How convenient," he commented. "I don't suppose you saved me the trouble of killing him, did you Harry?"

Harry kept his face slack and his gaze empty. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course not," Grigore replied. "It's no matter. Andros is little more than a puppet. Send six wizards to fetch Dragomir. Do not take his wand, but do not hesitate to kill him if he resists."

* * *

Ginny admitted to herself that she had no idea what was happening. The Brotherhood had killed Stefan for simply talking to her. They had not waited or deliberated for even a moment. On Grimmauld Place, Grigore had shown no hesitation at all in killing Dobby. They'd captured Harry. After all the times he had escaped, she couldn't figure out why he had been left alive.

Perhaps it was nothing more than some sadistic desire to force his friends to watch him die. A dark voice in her head turned this thought on its head: Perhaps they were being brought down so Harry would be forced to watch them all die first. Ginny shivered at the thought.

She recognized the path they were currently taking. They had joined the same long spiral staircase that Grigore had used to show Ginny the Veil. There was no doubt in her mind that it was their destination now as well.

Ginny walked clumsily down the stairs next to Ron. He had a worse time of it, due to the rope leash which had been tied around his neck. Ginny had been left to walk freely, though she still didn't have the use of her arms or hands to steady her.

Maurizio walked ahead of Ron and Albert walked ahead of Ginny. Josef followed some distance behind them. She got few opportunities to look at him, but every time she did he had his wand out and his eyes locked on her. She wondered where he expected her to run off to.

After what felt like an eternity, the end of the staircase was in sight. Ron stumbled a little on the last step as Maurizio strode toward the door. Ginny took a moment to look behind her and found Josef aiming his wand in one hand and his other hand buried deeply in a side pocket of his robes. Ginny knew that he'd noticed her, but he said nothing.

She and Ron were led across the rounded hall and down the sloping corridor to the antechamber. Ginny had expected to hear the whispering of the Veil, but Ron was not all prepared for it. He stopped, earning a vicious tug from Maurizio.

"What is that noise?" he asked between coughs. "It sounds... unnatural."

"It is unnatural," Josef commented behind them. "That, Mr. Weasley, is the sound of the end of the world. Frightening isn't it? Such a quiet sound for something so universally destructive."

The five of them came to a stop in front of the large stone doors leading to the Veil Chamber. Albert held out his hand, telling Ginny to stay where she was, while Maurizio walked up to the doors, pulling Ron behind him. He reached out with his free arm to push the doors open.

"Wait!" barked Josef. "Let me check our prisoners. We have worked too hard to suffer any mistakes now."

Maurizio paused at the door with a look of frustrated impatience. Ginny watched as Josef walked past her to check on the straps around Ron's wrists. Her mind raced. No one was behind her any more. She could run. Albert had been unwilling to hex her before, and she doubted he would risk it now. But where could she go? Maybe it would be enough to simply make noise. Perhaps the distraction would be enough to give Harry some chance at escape.

Ginny watched Josef and Albert carefully, waiting for the perfect moment. Suddenly her eye caught something unusual. Josef was pulling something long out of his robe sleeve. An image flashed through her mind: Josef was going to stab her brother. He was useless to them, and Josef was going to take care of him here.

She opened her mouth to scream, but stopped when she saw Albert's face. It was completely expressionless, but his eyes were filled with a desperate pleading. Ginny froze. He wasn't angry or threatening. He was pleading with her, begging her to say nothing.

Only feet in front of her, she watched as Josef slid a familiar looking wand between Ron's hands. As Ron felt the touch of his own wand, his body began to twist to look behind him. Josef grabbed his shoulder, his fingers digging into Ron's robes.

"Say a single word, Mr. Weasley, make one wrong move and you'll be dead quicker than you can imagine."

Ginny turned back to Albert, but his face was nothing more than a stony mask. He'd seen her watching Josef. He'd wanted her to keep quiet, just as Josef had wanted to keep Ron quiet. Her heart raced as she felt waves of warmth flowing from her stomach out to the tips of her fingers. Josef had given Ron a wand. That could only mean one thing.

As he stepped behind her, she could feel him tugging at the rough straps around her wrists. They loosened a little as she felt the very distinctive feel of something ripping. Dragonhide didn't rip, not without powerful magic. _They aren't dragonhide,_ her mind shouted. That was why they had felt wrong. Josef was giving her a chance to escape. She waited hopefully for the feel of a wand against her hands.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he whispered into her ear loud enough for everyone to hear: "It's time, Ginny. We cannot keep Grigore waiting. He's very eager to see you again."

Ahead of her, Albert nodded and Maurizio pushed the doors open. Instead of leading Ron in immediately, he waited as Josef pushed Ginny forward with gently but irresistible force.

The moment Ginny passed through the giant doorway, any hope she'd been feeling drained away. The small chamber was ringed with grey cloaked wizards. There were easily twenty of them, spread evenly around the top few levels of the room. A few levels down and ringed by a smaller number of wizards were Harry and Hermione. They stared up at Ginny with despairing looks. Sitting some distance away and guarded by two more wizards was Dragomir. He stared up at her with the same blank expression that Albert had given her.

Maurizio, Ron and Albert entered behind her. The doors were shut tightly behind her, leaving her feeling more trapped and helpless than she ever had before. _Thirty wizards,_ she thought. _It isn't possible_.

"Bring her down!" Tarus called out. "Leave the other one. I have no use for him, yet, but remove his... rope," he said with distaste. "He is a wizard, not an animal, and we are not barbarians."

Josef and Albert began walking her down the stairs toward Tarus.

"You may remain where you are, Aleksey," Tarus commanded with a dark glare. "I have no doubt that Josef will be able to handle Ginny by himself."

Ginny continued walking with Josef behind her. Her eyes sought out Harry's face and saw his eyes. She had always loved the color of them, and now, all her senses were sharpened by fear and urgency. They seemed to glow and flash in the torchlight like a pair of emeralds. She could see that his fear was gone. Now there was only determination and resolve.

Josef led Ginny down to the same level Harry was seated on. He stepped toward Grigore offering him her wand. Grigore took the wand gently and passed it onto a nearby wizard, then extended his hand again. "And the bait?" he prompted.

Slowly, Josef retrieved a small wooden box from his pocket. Ginny caught a hint of apprehension as he handed the box over. Grigore took it with a slight smile. Instead of handing it to the other wizard, he simply checked the contents of the box and then held it tightly in his hand.

"Finally, they are all here," Grigore said as though he had accomplished some lifelong goal. "The Disciple and the Traitor—" he announced as he looked at Ron and Hermione in turn. "—the Angel—" he added with a glance at Ginny, "—and the Demon," he finished as he glared at Harry.

"An interesting mix, is it not? Two wizards, two witches. The four points of a compass, each one pairing with its opposite in some instinctual attempt to maintain some sense of balance and stability. But it's not really balanced is it?" he asked as he walked closer to Ginny. "Mr. Weasley has blind loyalty, but he is far from obedient. That's Miss Granger's strength, a strength so essential to her being that she is blinded by it. And yet, for all that conflict, they are both —in essence— _good_.

"Miss Weasley is no different —on the surface," Tarus said as pulled aside Ginny's robes to reveal the dragonhide vest underneath, "but underneath that shell, she knows a darkness that few have ever experienced, and only one has ever lived to report."

He turned and stalked toward Harry. "It's strange, is it not, that the only two people who have experienced Voldemort's wrath found companionship in each other. To the naive, it would seem appropriate or even desirable for such a match to be made. The wise know differently. Real warriors seldom seek sheildmaidens as wives. One who has faced the horror and brutality of battle is more likely to seek the oblivion of one who has never been touched by the more brutal aspects of our humanity.

"And yet, curiously, you did," he said to Harry. "I spent many months pondering that mystery. It wasn't until I began watching her myself that I finally understood. You weren't drawn to her because of the darkness within her. You were drawn to her because she had darkness within her and yet she remained unchanged. With her at your side, your own darkness could grow to towering heights and no one would notice until it was too late."

"I've had enough of your lies," snapped Harry. "I didn't believe them a year ago, and I don't believe them now. You are the one who has grown darker, Grigore. You're losing control. You've hid it for too long. You're running out of time."

"Yes, I admit there is truth in what you're saying," Tarus replied with a glint of wild excitement in his eyes. "And that was the final proof!" he said. "I knew the moment I heard that you killed Voldemort and yet lived that you would be a threat. The night we met, I had come to kill you. But I could not. In you, I saw terrible power —and immense potential. I fooled myself into believing that I could train you. You were to be my protÃ©gÃ©, and together we would usher the world into a new age!

"You are more than just a wizard, Harry," he explained. "You are the creation of a world that has been brought to the brink of destruction. Even now, it hangs in the balance, and _you_ are the fulcrum. You are the point around which the world tips and sways. You hold in your hand the power to save or destroy a world the Brotherhood has fought to maintain for millenia. In my arrogance, I thought I could teach you to enforce the balance. If I could succeed, the world might be safe for generations."

He turned to stare at Ginny. "I was deceived, just as Albus Dumbledore was deceived. Harry and Voldemort were too powerful to exist in this world. He is not the same wizard he was when he left you," Tarus whispered. "He has changed. Without you to balance him, he has corrupted those around him. You have seen this. You know I am speaking the truth. I feel the darkness within me. I feel _his_ darkness."

"He's lying!" yelled Harry. "He's trying to use the Veil to make himself immortal!" he shouted to the rest of the Brotherhood. "He's been using all of us. He never wanted to protect Ginny! He needs her as a sacrifice and he knew that he'd have to kill me to get to her."

Ginny's chest tightened. That was what he had been keeping from her. He had needed her to come with him because he had wanted to use her as bait. She understood him now. He had been risking his life for her for a year, and he had needed her to risk hers for him. Instead of feeling angry, Ginny felt proud. She was doing her part. Harry trusted her. She gave him a faint smile. He returned a slight nod. They understood each other.

"I desire no such thing," argued Tarus. "My goal is no different than it has been for over eighty years. I have spent a lifetime trying to maintain the balance of nature. It is you, Harry, who must be sacrificed, not Ginny. With your death and her life, I believe the world can heal. I seek to obtain nothing at all for my labor. I promise you that I will do everything within my power to see that Ginny lives a long, rewarding life."

"You're a liar," replied Harry. "You're old and afraid. You've killed your own friends for a chance at immortality. You've created this whole fantasy about me being dangerous to hide your true plan. You only want me dead so that you will be free to pursue your own selfish goals."

"I can think of one way to prove we are telling the truth," Tarus said with a gleam in his eyes. "We will _both_ step through the Veil," he said firmly. "You will prove to me that you are not the wizard who heralds the end of the world, and I will prove to you that I have no desires for immortality."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Grigore, I've played that game before. The moment I step close to that arch, you and your goons will toss me in and then Ginny is next."

Ginny watched as Tarus's face soured. "I will remind you that you have no wand. If I wanted to toss you through the Veil, I could have done it long ago and without any of this wearisome discussion."

"Then do it," Harry challenged, "but I won't help you. If you want me dead, you'll have to do it with your own hands or order one of your slaves to do it. I've done enough of your dirty work."

"I will give Ginny a wand," Tarus growled. "If there is any sign of trickery, I have no doubt that she will be able to ensure my death."

"No, Grigore," Harry replied stubbornly. "I won't help you, and I won't let you force Ginny to either. If that was your best idea, then I think your time has already passed. It's time for you to step aside. You are seeing things where they don't exist."

Tarus stood glaring at Harry, fuming and clenching his fists. "My vision is as good as it ever was. You are the one who has been corrupted. I did not wish to resort to this, Harry, but you give me no choice." He walked over to stand in front of Harry.

"Where is Voldemort's wand?" he asked calmly.

"I sold it to a discount wand store for a few Sickles," Harry said with a smile. "They stripped it down and put the feathers into a more flexible wand. It's probably being used as a whisk by some squib in Germany by now."

Tarus was not amused. He snapped his fingers and pointed toward the stone doors where Ron was standing. "Tell me where the wand is, or Ronald Weasley _dies_."

The smile vanished off Harry's face. Ginny turned her head slightly to look at Josef, but he didn't react at all. He was watching Harry closely as he and Tarus stared at each other.

"I don't have it," Harry explained. "I put it someplace safe."

"I know you, Harry," Tarus purred. "It's here, and you will tell me where it is."

"It's not here. I sent it to Germany by owl. It's probably somewhere over France at the moment. If you sent out twenty or so wizards on brooms you might—"

"Enough! Kill Mr. Weasley!" commanded Tarus.

A pair of wizards turned in place and extended their wands toward Ron. Ginny felt a stab of panic as they began shouting the same incantation.

"_Avada—_"

"_Stop!_" Harry shouted as he stood up. "I have the wand." He quickly reached into an inside pocket in his robes and pulled out a long dark wand. Ginny had an idea. It didn't have to work. It only had to add enough confusion to give them a chance.

"He's lying!" Ginny shouted. "_I_ have the wand. It's in my pocket."

Tarus glanced from Harry to Ginny. "Check her," he ordered. Josef quickly patted her down, searching for the wand. After a few seconds, he found it and slowly pulled out a wand that looked identical to the one in Harry's hand.

"They're both lying!" cried Hermione as she too pulled out a wand. "_This_ is Voldemort's wand. I know. I've been working with it for a year."

Tarus's lips curled in anger. "I have no time for games, Harry. Tell me where the wand is or—"

"It's not here," Harry repeated.

"You're lying," snarled Tarus. "Check Mr. Weasley! I believe you'll find a wand in his pockets!"

One of the Brotherhood wizards leaped up the steps and began searching Ron's pockets. He quickly found the wand and brought it back down. Tarus regarded it suspiciously. "Attack Razvan," he ordered.

The wizard did as he was told and slashed his wand toward Razvan, who was quickly pulling a wand from his own pocket. Ginny recognized it as Harry's wand.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Razvan shouted. The other wand did nothing and was quickly pulled from the grip of the other wizard.

"A decoy," Tarus growled. "He would never give Miss Weasley the real wand. He would not have even let it get close to her." He stepped toward Harry and yanked the wand from Harry's fingers. He handed it to the wizard who had fetched Ron's wand. "Again!" he shouted.

As commanded, the wizard attempted to hex Razvan and he attempted to disarm the other wizard. The result was the same as the last wand. Ginny tried to understand just what he was trying to accomplish. In the end, it wouldn't matter. There were only four copies. When Tarus realized that Harry was telling the truth, she knew he would be very angry. He had been serious about killing Ron. She tossed a warning glance at Josef. If they were planning to help Harry, they were running out of time.

* * *

Harry's mind was filled with a hundred thoughts, and he recognized that many of them were not even his own. Sitting as close to the Veil as he was, it was very difficult for him to concentrate. He could hear the desperate whispers of the dead blending together and forming a soft background to a much more sinister rhythmic noise. It took nearly all of his energy to simply keep it from completely occupying his mind.

He had much more troubling things to think about. Grigore was testing all of the wands. Harry had forgotten about his own wand. Grigore didn't need to perform the spell extraction charms Hermione had developed. He could simply have each of the wands attempt to duel with his own wand. Harry watched as Grigore plucked the next wand from Hermione's hand, already knowing the result.

As the wizard slashed his wand toward Razvan a brilliant red arc of flame erupted from the tip. Razvan was nearly too surprised to remember that he too needed to cast a spell. The two spells collided in mid-air and for a brief instant, a thin line of light connected the two wands. The shocked wizards broke the connection almost immediately. However, their surprise was nothing compared to the mortified amazement of Hermione when she realized that she truly had given Grigore Voldemort's wand.

"How appropriate," he chuckled bitterly as he pulled Voldemort's wand from the other wizards limp grasp. "You may have evened the score for a while, Harry, but I still have the advantage. I have always had the advantage, because I am not crippled by foolish ideas of right and wrong."

"Why do you want it? What use is a band of washed up dark wizards to an immortal Dark Lord?" Harry asked. "The Brotherhood are much better servants than the Death Eaters ever were."

"You are right, and yet, the Death Eaters are pressed by desperation that few wizards ever experience. That desperation will force them to take drastic action, and drastic action is precisely what I need." Grigore called a wizard to his side and handed him Voldemort's wand. "You know where to send it. Use an eagle owl, and tie the package in black ribbon," he instructed the wizard.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked. The voices in his head were growing louder, and it was getting almost painful to concentrate. "You're giving the wand to the Death Eaters? What are they paying you in return?"

"They are paying me nothing. It is simply payment for the help —willing and unwilling— that they have given me in the past. I am certain that Miss Granger has told you about their desire to resurrect their dead master? The spell they intend to use —the spell I found for them— requires three things. At the moment, they have none of them. I have just sent them the wand. The next component they already know where to find: your blood, the blood of the wizard who killed their master. It was the last component which I used to buy their aid. I promised them I could secure it for them."

Grigore rubbed his face and took a deep breath. "I did not want it to come to this, Harry, but you leave me no choice. With the wand is a message revealing them where they might find blood of that which housed their master's soul. It is simply a name: Ginevra Weasley."

Harry felt his heart skip. "But... how?" he stammered. "It can't be. She only wrote in the diary. Riddle— His soul never left the book until the very end. He never actually—"

"Yes, yes, Harry," Grigore agreed. "You are quite correct. Like you, Miss Weasley was only a vessel for Voldemort's magic, not his soul. However, the Death Eaters cannot know that. They have spent a year searching tirelessly for something to fulfill the requirements of the third component. Now that they know where to look, I doubt that they will debate the semantics of Miss Weasley's possession before they drain her body of every ounce of blood."

"You're a monster," Harry hissed.

"No, Harry, I am desperate," Grigore replied icily. "There is still a way to save her. The spell has three components. They have one and know where to get the other two. All you must do is deny them one of those two. So long as they may hope to obtain those last components, they will hunt her and her family and anyone she cares about. But if you were to step through the Veil, Harry, they would never get the first component —the most important component. Miss Weasley would be worthless to them."

Harry's mind struggled to find some way out. The plan was sadistic, cruel, barbaric, and perfect. Even after a year of hunting the Death Eaters, the Aurors hadn't even tracked down half of them. He couldn't keep Ginny safe without pulling her away from everything she loved.

Grigore pointed a bony finger toward the Veil. "Accept your fate, Harry. Save yourself. Save the woman you love. Save your friends and your family. Save the world. Again. It is what you were born to do."

"And if I don't?" Harry asked with an empty voice.

"Then I will seal you in this chamber and send Ginny back to London with no one to protect her. It will not take long for the Death Eaters to find her and drain her of every last drop of blood."

"You'd never let them do it," Harry said, trying to ignore the shakiness in his own voice. "You wouldn't let them kill her."

Grigore's face fell and he suddenly looked very old and very tired. His eyes blinked slowly. "I would. I am afraid that her death is no longer avoidable. The trap has been sprung. I can no longer save her. Only you can, Harry."

Harry looked over at Ginny. Her eyes were glassy and she looked deathly pale. There had to be some way out of this. He just needed more time. He glanced down to Hermione, but she only shook her head, revealing the same helplessness he felt. He quickly looked over at Dragomir, but the older wizard looked away quickly.

They had told him that he was acting too soon. Dragomir had warned him. Josef had known that they were walking into a trap they couldn't slip out of. Slowly, carefully, Harry turned to look at Josef. He kept his face as expressionless as possible while pleading with him to do _something_. He was out of ideas and there were no other options left.

"Something interesting there, Harry?" Grigore asked. "What could you possibly be hoping for? Do you think that I do not know that my own lieutenant has been conspiring against me? Do you think that I have not prepared for the moment of his betrayal?"

"You have strayed from the path, Grigore," Josef announced clearly. "I will not let you condemn her to death!"

A loud _bang_ echoed through the room and seemingly everyone turned to search for its source. Behind him, Harry saw the wizard Grigore had called Aleksey standing slightly behind Ron and slashing his wand across Ron's back. For a moment, he thought Ron had been attacked, but the truth was obvious an instant later.

As Ron's arms sprung free of his restraints, the world around Harry slowed down. The wizard who had freed Ron was still swinging his wand in a wide arc. As it sliced through the air, it left a wave of yellow sparks flying toward a pack of wizards nearby. Somehow, Ron had gotten a hold of a wand, and was already aiming it at the face of his other guard, a younger Italian wizard Harry remembered as Maurizio.

Even as Ron's stunner struck Maurizio in the face, the wave of yellow sparks reached the first few wizards on the other side of Ron. They flew backwards, as though tossed by a giant. Harry wasn't alone and he was surrounded. Suddenly, there was hope.

"_Tradare!_" Grigore shouted. It appeared to be a signal of some sort. The rest of the Brotherhood wizards woke up from their shock and turned back to their leader. Grigore pointed a long finger at Josef. "Kill him, _now_!"

Harry needed a wand. He needed _his_ wand, but Razvan was still holding it. Though Harry couldn't tell if it was lucky or terribly frightening, Razvan was not far from Ginny, and that was precisely where Harry knew he needed to be.

Grabbing Hermione and pulling her along with him, Harry dove for the wizards standing between him and Ginny. He needed to break through the ring of wizards guarding him and Josef had given him the distraction he needed. With Hermione close behind him, he slammed his shoulder into the back of one wizard while grabbing the arm of another. Using his momentum, he spun around and threw the second wizard back at his comrades.

In the resulting commotion, the first volley of curses shot through the air. Still ahead of him, Josef, Ginny and Razvan were all forced to duck to avoid being struck. Harry felt one spell strike his shoulder, but bounce off his Shield Cloak. Shoving Hermione to the ground, Harry jumped down one level for shelter and continued running toward Ginny.

Off to his right, Harry watched as Josef ducked one hex and waved his wand quickly at a pair of wizards nearby. They froze instantly, and Josef ducked behind them. With a single, fluid movement, he spun around and aimed his directly at Ginny. Harry felt a prickling of fear as a bright bolt of light hurtled toward her back.

The curse hit her hard, tossing her from the level above Harry to the level below him. Before Harry had a chance to kill Josef for what he'd done, he noticed that Ginny was still moving. In fact, she was freed. They must have left her with a working Shield Cloak.

Unfortunately, Harry was not the only one who realized that Ginny was free. Standing only feet from him, Razvan had his wand aimed at Harry and a hideous scowl on his face.

"It's over, Potter," he growled. "_Frendo!_"

Harry saw only a burst of light and a fast moving object slip between him and Razvan. Red hair flashed in front of him and a brief shriek of pain rang out in the room. Ginny fell to the ground, wincing in pain, but otherwise unhurt. Harry leaped over her, preparing to attack Razvan with his fists if needed.

Before he could reach him, a beam of silvery shot past his shoulder. Razvan cast a hasty Shield Charm, but not quite fast enough. The blast of the spell impacting on his Shield Charm sent him flying backward. He hit the floor, sending Harry's wand flying farther down toward the center of the room. It bounced down the levels until it landed on the stone floor.

Harry's eyes locked on his wand. It was far closer to the Veil than he wanted to go, but he had no choice. He looked about him quickly. On the highest level, Ron and Aleksey had opened the doors and were using them as shelter as they kept a large number of wizards busy. Dragomir had disabled one of his guards somehow and was wrestling for the other's wand. Another pair of wizards had taken position next to Hermione and together they were trying to make their way to the door.

They were still heavily outnumbered, but they were doing better than Harry would have imagined. Ginny was still wandless, but she was unrestrained and protected by a Shield Cloak. Josef had turned his back on Harry and was trying to stun or incapacitate as many wizards as he could while ducking behind the few wizards he'd petrified.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Harry's head jerked around just in time to see a rush of green light heading for Josef. He ducked behind a grey-haired wizard. The curse struck the petrified man, dropping him to the ground and leaving Josef completely unprotected.

"Harry!" he shouted. "If you're so powerful, _do something_!" Josef dove onto a higher level and rolled across the stone, dodging another pair of hexes.

With grim determination, Harry began jumping down from level to level. He needed his wand. It didn't matter how close it was to the Veil. He would just grab it and run off. If he didn't they wouldn't last another minute.

With one final leap, Harry landed on the central floor of the room, and quickly ducked down to lunge for his wand. As he landed, he felt his elbows bleeding from sliding across the rough stone. However, whatever pain it might have caused was completely washed away by the relief of feeling his hand wrap around his wand.

He quickly scrambled to his feet and began climbing up to the next level of the chamber. Just as he was pulling himself up, he felt his robes pulled tight against his neck. With nearly inhuman force, Harry felt himself tugged backwards onto the floor, knocking the wind from his lungs. As he coughed, he twisted around trying to see who had attacked him.

"I cannot let you live, Harry," Grigore growled, "even if I have to kill you myself."

Grigore's foot swung quickly and connected with the side of Harry's head. Harry's vision exploded with a thousand flashes of light. Over the ringing in his ears, he could hear a rhythmic chanting growing louder and filling his head. He forced his eyes to focus, but it was getting harder. The room was growing dark. Something felt wrong. He was moving, but not in any normal way.

In a burst of consciousness, Harry realized what was happening. Grigore was dragging him toward the Veil. He could already hear the voice calling to him. Harry closed his eyes. In his mind, he could see the stone arch with a dark shape superimposed over it. A simple idea formed itself inside his mind. This was what he'd come here to do, and now would be his last chance. With every last bit of concentration he could muster, Harry raised his wand, and said a single word:

"_Pulsus!_"

Harry had aimed for Grigore's chest, but he'd missed, and struck him in the shoulder. Grigore flew backward toward the arch, twisting as he flew. Instead of flying through the arch as Sirius had, Grigore's shoulder struck the right hand arch and he spun off the raised platform.

Harry would have sworn if he could have. The force of Grigore shoulder against the column had broken away a large chunk of stone just above the place it had already been damaged. As he tumbled to the stone platform, a plume of dark smoke poured out from the broken section of the arch. A splitting pain shot through Harry's scar and his vision filled with an inky blackness. He could hear frighteningly familiar words echoing in his mind:

_Across the endless wastes and timeless sands  
Born of atrocity and boundless pain..._

A swell of voices shouting and wailing filled his ears. Suddenly, breaking through all other sounds, was a single scream. It was comfortingly familiar. Harry smiled, wishing he could hear it again. It felt like he was floating. He didn't care anymore, he'd done his best. That was all anyone could ask.

Slowly, his vision turned from black to grey, growing lighter every second. He wasn't so comfortable anymore. There were other noises. Explosions. Angry shouts.

"Harry!"

Harry's eyes fluttered open and he saw Ginny leaning over him.

"I can't pull you any higher, Harry," she shouted. "I need you to help me."

Harry blinked again, and felt his wand clutched tightly in his hand. On the other side of the raised platform, Grigore was crawling back onto his feet and scowling at the two of them. Harry pushed with all his strength and Ginny hauled him up onto the first level. Harry felt more of his strength returning to him. One more level and he would be alright.

A strangled shriek echoed through the chamber. Harry looked up and found Razvan Lupescu standing behind Ginny. He was clutching her neck and baring his teeth as though he were some wild animal.

"She is the cause of all of this!" he howled. "If you want her, you'll have to follow her!" With a shout, he tossed her back toward the center of the room. Harry tried to stand up, but a new wave of pain surged through his scar and his legs collapsed underneath him.

Razvan leaped down to the floor and strode toward Ginny. With one hand on her neck and the other wrapped under her arm, he pulled her to her feet and began dragging her toward the Veil. She was trying to fight back, but he was much larger than her. In a matter of seconds, he had pulled her onto the raised platform. Harry could the see the panic in her eyes as Razvan neared the Veil.

"No!" roared a familiar voice. Harry's memory told him it was Josef. "Aleksey! The barrier! Quickly!"

A weaker reply rang out: "No! There must be another way! We cannot—"

"_Do it now!_" Josef shouted. "There is no other way!"

Harry could barely comprehend what he was seeing as a bolt of light burst forth from Josef's wand and rocketed toward the Veil. With Razvan less than ten feet from his goal, the spell hit the left side of the arch, shattering the stone column on that side. Razvan and Ginny were thrown to the ground.

Pain flooded into Harry's body. A voice from deep inside him begged him to run for the Veil. It was the only thing that would end the pain. It was unbearable. He watched in awe as the top half of the arch seemed to hang eerily in the air for a moment. Then dark smoke billowed out of the sides of the arch. The remaining sections glowed an eerie shade of green as brighter cracks spidered across the stone.

His ears were filled with screaming. He could hear Ginny, and Josef, and even Hermione. There was another voice, which for a time, he thought was his own. When he discovered the truth, he could hardly believe what he was seeing.

Razvan yanked Ginny back to her feet and tugged her slowly toward the crumbling arch. Grigore Tarus was on his feet and running across the platform toward him. He passed within feet of the arch and slammed into the two of them. The collision sent Ginny flying backward off the platform while Grigore and Razvan fell onto the stone platform.

"Aleksey!" Josef shouted.

"_Occulo Animoportus!_"

As smoke burst forth from the void where the arch had been, a cylinder of purple light spiraled upward from the golden ring, encircling the platform and forming a crackling cage around Razvan and Grigore.

As though a door had been slammed shut, the voices in Harry's mind disappeared. With a sudden clarity, he saw a dark shape —darker than the smoke filling the platform— leap forward and wrap itself around Razvan. There was a short scream which ended abruptly.

The chamber became disturbingly quiet. From inside the wall of purple light, Grigore let out a strangled moan. He scrambled away from the shadowy figure and began running for the edge of the platform. Before he made it more than a few feet, the figure shot forward. Grigore cried out and fell forward. His arms broke through the barrier, sending arcs of purple light crawling along his skin. With visible effort, he pulled himself forward until his head and shoulders were hanging over the edge of the platform.

"What have you done?" he gasped.

A pair of Brotherhood members were running down the steps to help him until the chamber shook with a low rumble. The wall around the platform showered the room in purple sparks, but it held. At the same time, something had given Grigore a monstrous tug. He'd lost his hold on the edge of the platform with one arm and his grip with the other was slowly slipping.

"You must run!" he shouted hoarsely. "You must—" He coughed, sending a small trickle of blood down the side of his mouth. "—must keep her safe," he coughed as he slid the small wooden box Josef had given him across the floor. "She must escape. Keep her away from—"

A sound like a snapping branch echoed through the room and Grigore suddenly disappeared into the black smoke inside the barrier.

Harry had no idea exactly what was happening, but there was no doubt in his mind that Grigore was dead. He blinked his eyes and tried to force himself to think of just what he needed to do now. He had never thought that he'd be able to succeed and still escape.

Chaos had filled the room. The battle seemed to have come to an unexpected end as all wizards began running for the door. They no longer paid any attention to Ron or Hermione. A few of them had paused to attempt hasty charms to free their colleagues, but quite a number of petrified, stunned, or otherwise crippled wizards were being left behind.

Harry didn't have time for any of them either. He was on his feet in seconds and running for Ginny. She hadn't moved from the place she'd fallen. When he got to her side, she was just staring blankly at the column of smoke inside the purple barrier.

"He... he... saved me," she mumbled. "He gave his life—"

"No time for that now," Harry interrupted. "I think it's time for us to leave." He wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders and began walking her as quickly as he could back to the steps. Josef had leaped down the steps to retrieve the small wooden box, and was now running toward Harry and Ginny.

"He can't keep that shield up much longer," Josef shouted as he gently helped push Harry and Ginny up the stairs.

Above him, Harry could see Aleksey standing in front of Ron and Hermione. A beam of purple light was flowing from the tip of his wand to the shield around the platform. As Harry watched, he could see the beam weakening. They had to move faster.

As they ran up the stairs, they passed the wizard Harry had struck with the Sectumsempra curse. One of his legs was limp and useless, and the other was struggling to push him up the rest of steps. Harry paused. He had never meant to let the man die. There must be something he could do.

"_No!_" bellowed Josef. He gave Harry a firm shove and pushed him up the stairs. "There is no time, Harry!"

As the three of them reached the top of the stairs, they found Ron and Hermione already waiting for them and urging them across the threshold of the giant stone doors. Harry felt a tug on his shoulder as Ginny stumbled through the doorway. He turned to find Josef pointing at the far side of the doorway.

"We need to close the doors!" he shouted. "They will protect us!"

Harry ran over to the door Josef had pointed at and began pulling it shut. Once it was more than halfway shut, he turned and saw Josef running down the steps. A wizard was limping up the steps toward the door and Josef had turned to help him. The shield was fading, and despite all that Josef had done, Harry couldn't let him die.

Running down to the injured wizard, Harry helped Josef pick the man up and drag him up the stairs. As they reached the top, Aleksey lowered his wand and ran through the doorway. Josef grabbed the edge of one of the doors and pulled it closed right behind him.

Harry and Josef tossed the limping wizard through the doorway and dove out of the chamber as a thunderous roar erupted behind them, slamming the doors shut as though driven by a horrible gale. The patterns etched into the gold trim flashed a bright green, but the doors held.

Harry laid back and tried to catch his breath. What _had_ they done? Why had Grigore saved Ginny's life? Why had he given them the Portkey? Had he been wrong about Grigore? He had looked to be more afraid of whatever had happened than anyone else.

While Harry tried to recover, Josef was already on his feet and giving orders. "Aleksey! Find Updike. Stop him. Kill him if you have to."

"Dragomir went after him already," he said, sounding as weary as Harry felt. "I am certain—"

"As I would be, but if he fails, you must finish it," Josef snapped. "Dragomir must not leave the castle. Find someone trustworthy, and tell them to make certain that Dragomir remains here. He has to call them all. I cannot do it."

"Of course," Aleksey replied, then he disappeared up the corridor.

Josef turned back toward Harry. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry answered.

"I was asking Ginny," Josef replied sourly.

"I'll be alright," she croaked. "What just happened?"

"There's no time to explain," Josef replied. "You need to leave immediately."

"No!" called out the injured wizard. "Don't let him escape," he growled while pointing his wand at Harry.

Josef walked over to the wizard and crouched down beside him. "Perhaps the pain has blurred your vision, Marcus. That man you're pointing your wand at just saved your life."

"Saved me?" the wizard repeated. "No... I would have welcomed death if he would have given it to me. Perhaps he too will welcome it before—"

The wizard's voice was cut short by a sharp scream. He dropped his wand and curled up as he reached for the back of his leg. Josef held up a jagged, triangular piece of stone. It's tip was covered in blood.

"Perhaps you're right," Josef remarked. "We should have let you die. I prefer to believe that the world still has some use for you." Josef tossed the chunk of masonry back at the man's chest. As he turned and walked away the wizard on the floor stared at him with a look of anger and fear.

"Come on, Harry!" Josef urged. "You can rest later."

"Where are we supposed to go?" Harry asked, trying to keep the defeat out of his tone. "You've found or destroyed every place I have to hide."

"Go home," Josef said quickly. "Go back to the house Grigore found you in."

"It's not safe. The Brotherhood knows where it is. I can't make it safe for them."

"I am still in the Brotherhood," Josef replied sharply. "_I_ will make it safe."

Harry stood up and stared into Josef's eyes. There was a time when Harry had trusted Josef with his life. For two months, he had been the only friend Harry had. And for ten months he had been the focus of so much of Harry's anger that he still had trouble putting the smallest amount of trust in him.

If there were many other wizards like Marcus Lipton, then Josef might not be able to keep his promise. Of course, if that were true, they would never make it out of the Castle. It seemed there was little choice.

"How do we get there?" Harry asked.

"Gather around," Josef ordered. "Ginny had the right idea. She only failed in her impatience." He opened the lid of the small wooden box to reveal a silver key laying in a bed of purple velvet. "Quickly, place a finger or two on the key."

Harry reached forward and touched the delicate ring at the end of the key; Ginny's finger was right next to his. She gave him an uncertain smile and looked back at Josef. Ron and Hermione were also touching the key, but Josef did not.

"I will be needed here," he said, as though he had read Harry's thoughts. "I hope that I will see you again. Good night, and for once in your life, Harry, don't do anything foolish."

Josef touched the tip of his wand to the end of the key. With a sickening tugging sensation, Harry felt himself pulled off the floor and forced through a long tunnel at an amazing speed. A moment later, he felt his feet land on a hard floor. He collapsed onto the polished surface along with Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

It was dark. As they blinked about at their surroundings, Harry could hear the sound of torches flaring to life and the sound of gurgling water.

"Wands out!" he hissed.

"I don't _have_ a wand," Hermione whispered harshly.

"Me, either," added Ginny.

As more torches were lit, the room slowly came into focus. It was a large hall with a sizable fountain in the center with a number of figures of various sizes.

"We're at the Ministry," Hermione whispered. "Look! There's the guard!"

Harry turned and saw a lit desk at the far end of the hall. A shadowy figure was standing behind it. Suddenly, a cone of light sprung forth, shining in their direction.

"We've got to go," Harry said. "Pair up and Disapparate. Quickly." Ginny leaped to her feet and grabbed a hold of Harry's arm with a surprising amount of strength.

"Oi!" the guard shouted across the hall. "You there! Identify yourselves!"

"I'd rather not, thanks!" Harry shouted in return. The hall was now bright enough that Harry could see the small pointed hat on the guard's head. They had to leave before the guard had a chance to identify any of them.

"Ron, give me your wand," Hermione demanded.

"What? Why?"

"Because I've seen your Apparation skills in action," she replied. Ron looked like he wanted to argue, but quickly gave up his wand. This was no place to start a row.

With a nod, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on the alley on Grimmauld Place just across from the old Black house. Ginny gripped him even tighter and pulled herself close. After a single crushing instant, he found himself standing with Ginny in the darkness of the empty alley. A second later, Ron and Hermione _popped_ in behind them.

Ron took his wand and together, he and Harry stepped out into the street. It was quiet and completely empty. There were no signs of the battle that had taken place not even two days earlier. There were no signs of anything. It was as if the entire street had been abandoned.

Harry stood in the street, holding out a hand and telling the others to remain back. Something felt wrong. It was too quiet.

An owl hooted in the distance. Harry spun about to prepare for some attack, but nothing came. Somewhere behind him, a dog barked. Farther down the street, a cat was stalking some small, unfortunate thing.

Cautiously, Harry nodded to the others. They walked across the street to Number Twelve with a slowness caused more by weariness than wariness. Harry ushered them into the darkened house and firmly closed the door.

"Master... returns," Kreacher croaked from the shadows. The disgust in his voice was obvious.

"Yes, Kreacher, your master has returned," Harry said. "And he has work for you to do."

"It will take Kreacher some time to take down the paintings. Best if master just let them—"

"Don't bother with them —for now," Harry said sharply. "I want you to keep watch on the street and see that we all know the moment you see any wizards within sight of this place. If you fall asleep I swear I'll sell you to a charming family of Muggle-borns with lots of children."

"Master is very kind," sneered Kreacher. As he walked off, Harry could hear him mumbling: "Watching doors is troll work. Kreacher is not a troll. Of course, the mop-headed Mudblood is not a wizard and master has not noticed that either. Oh, Kreacher's old mistress would have noticed, she would have made..."

Harry turned and walked toward the kitchen. He was extraordinarily tired, but he didn't want a bed. He didn't want to fall into a deep, rejuvenating sleep. He needed to stay ready. He wanted to trust Josef, but he simply couldn't. If the Brotherhood showed up, he still had a few tricks to show them.

Ron, Ginny and Hermione joined him. They agreed that it would be a good idea if one of them remained awake at all times, and even better if two of them did. Hermione quickly summoned a clock and marked off a number of shifts. Ron and Hermione took the first shift, letting Harry and Ginny fall asleep in chairs in the parlor.

As the night passed and early morning dawned, Harry was awoken by a very groggy looking Ron. He said only three words, "Your shift, mate," before he collapsed in a nearby chair and fell asleep. Harry and Ginny took up their station in the kitchen, drinking two whole pots of tea in an attempt to stay alert.

Outside, the sun was shining and Muggles were walking along the sidewalk and driving down the street on their way to their jobs. Small children began playing in the park down the street. Elderly Muggles paired up and walked their dogs.

In the kitchen, the tea was gone and Harry and Ginny had long since run out of topics to talk about. Ginny had slumped forward onto the table and looked to be asleep. Harry let her. The wound on her back still needed to heal and the best thing for that was sleep.

He watched her for some time. He'd done so much for no reason except keeping her safe. He'd lost a year of his life, a year he was supposed to spend with her. He wanted for it to be over. He wished he could simply wake up and let this all be a dream. He reached across the table and wrapped his hand around hers. Unconsciously, she squeezed his hand and sighed contentedly. Harry laid his head on the table and just watched her sleep: the twitching of her eyes as she dreamed of some happier place, the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed, the spot on her neck which pulsed in time with the beating of her heart.

Then his eyelids slowly closed, and Harry fell asleep.


	25. The Grey Visitor

**CHAPTER 25**

**The Grey Visitor**

* * *

Harry awoke to sharp pains in his ribs. He twisted to try and avoid them, but they returned eventually. He groaned at the annoyance. Why couldn't they go away? He just wanted to sleep— 

Harry's eyes snapped open and he jerked upright in his chair. The clock on the table read nearly noon. Standing next to him and extending a knobby finger was Kreacher. He had a strange, hungry look in his eyes and a smile filled with crooked yellow teeth.

"They have returned, master," he said while trying to hide a rumbling laugh. "Master should not have come back. Kreacher knew they would come for him."

Harry leaped to his feet and slipped his hand into his robes to pull out his wand. He reached out to gently shake Ginny's shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open, and she took only a moment to perceive what had happened.

"How could we be so stupid?" she hissed as she followed Harry to the cabinet he kept the spare Shield Cloaks in.

"How many of them are there?" Harry asked Kreacher as he tossed a smaller cloak to Ginny, grabbed one for himself and draped two more over his arm.

"How many?" the house elf laughed. "Kreacher only saw one. Of course, Kreacher was not told to count. Of course, there was just one the last time, too."

Harry tried to ignore him. He raced into the parlor and shoved Ron with a little more force than he intended. Ron tumbled off the side of his chair and swore loudly.

"What was that for?" he shouted as he sat up. Across the room, Hermione was rubbing her eyes groggily.

"The Brotherhood is here," Harry replied quickly. "Get your wand, take one of these and follow me." Harry tossed a pair of Shield Cloaks to him and Hermione and strode out of the room.

"No Dobby to help you this time!" Kreacher cackled. "Kreacher would help, but his knees hurt. He can't walk fast so early in the morning."

Hermione and Ron burst through the doorway looking a bit dazed and disheveled as they tried to figure out how to put the cloaks on. Ron was holding his wand and Hermione was staring at it as if trying to summon the courage to make some suggestion Ron wouldn't like.

"So, Harry," she asked hesitantly, "where are your spare wands?"

"Don't have any," he replied distractedly. He was slipping on a pair of heavy-looking dragonhide gloves. "The last one was incinerated by a Hungarian Horntail."

"So what are Ginny and I supposed to do?"

Harry finished tightening the second glove. "Stay out of sight," he said. "Ron will stay here, too. I'm going out alone."

"You're _what?_" shrieked Ginny.

"No, no, no," chuckled Kreacher. "Send out the filthy Mudblood," he croaked with a nod toward Hermione. "Let the nasty wizards attack it first. Retched things aren't good for anything else. Kreacher could tie its hands and slip a scorpion down its shirt. It makes them scream much louder—"

"_Enough_ Kreacher," Harry snapped. He was finished preparing and began walking toward the front door. Ron, Ginny and Hermione followed, leaving Kreacher to mutter to himself in the kitchen.

Harry reached the doorway, unlocked the door with his wand and slowly opened it just a crack so that he could see the street. There were only a small number of Muggles about, but Grimmauld Place was far from deserted. Harry could see just what had caught Kreacher's attention. Standing on the pavement just across the street from Number Twelve was a single figure wearing a hooded grey cloak. It was tall, and its shoulders were too broad to belong to a woman.

As Harry watched, the man simply stood as though staring back at him. A Muggle out for a stroll with her dog trotted by happily, paying no attention to the man in the full cloak with golden trim. Not even the dog had hesitated for a moment.

"How many are there?" Hermione asked from behind the door.

"Just one that I can see," answered Harry. "There's no telling just how many are hiding out of sight."

Harry flinched as the wizard across the street began moving. He had slowly reached into his robes and drew something out. Slowly, the man had kneeled to the ground and placed something long and narrow on the cracked pavement. He then stood up, took a step backward, and held is arms out to either side in a signal of disarmament. _He's put down his wand,_ Harry said to himself.

"I think he wants to talk," Harry announced quietly as he opened the door a little wider.

"I'm coming with you," declared Ron.

Harry quickly ordered him not to. He didn't know what was happening, but if the entire Brotherhood had indeed come for him, there was little that Ron would be able to do to stop it. He opened the door wider and stepped out of the door and descended the stone steps. Harry waited for some hint of movement from the wizard, but he remained as still as a statue. It seemed as though he was trying to assure Harry that he was no threat.

Harry however, decided not to send any such messages. He was a threat, and he wanted the Brotherhood wizard to know it. He kept his wand clutched tightly in his hand and held out in front of his body slightly, ready to cast a curse in an instant.

As he reached the other side of the street, the wizard slowly reached for his hood and carefully pulled it back off his head. His hair was a dark brown, like most of the Brotherhood wizards, though somewhat richer in color and better kept than most. His features were strong without being bulky or heavy. He was, perhaps, the perfect example of the type of wizard the Brotherhood sent out to conduct public business. He was attractive, but not in any way that would prevent him from melting into a crowd.

There was only one flaw in his generic appearance: his eyes. They were light blue and piercing, allowing him to look kind and gentle while not completely hiding his cunning and a deeper mysterious nature. It was his eyes that had first convinced Harry to trust him. He had seen honesty and bravery in them. Now, he could only see treachery and deception.

"Good morning, Josef," Harry greeted him coolly.

"Good morning, Harry," Josef said with a smile. "That was a somewhat more sluggish response than I expected."

"I was busy. You're not worth rushing," Harry replied before he was able to stop himself. Josef had earned a second chance, but Harry had despised him for far too long to easily accept him as an ally.

"Of course," Josef said lightly. "I suppose I will have to defer to your expertise when it comes to rushed responses. Why did you come alone? All out of spare wands?"

Harry frowned. Josef had always known him a little too well. "Why are you here?" Harry asked.

"I bring news and gifts."

"So deliver them and leave," Harry replied flatly. He was in no mood to be patient, especially not for a wizard who had waited a year before trying to help him.

"There is something I must ask in return."

Harry felt his mood souring quickly. "They aren't gifts if you require payment, Josef. Whatever enchantment you cast on this area can only last so long. Neither of us wants to be visited by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so do whatever you're here for and leave."

"Relax, Harry. I do not want payment. I simply want reassurance."

"I'm afraid I'm fresh out," Harry replied tartly. "I think I left the last of it in Romania the day you betrayed me to Grigore."

"I am sorry for that, Harry," Josef said with sincerity. "Someday I will try to explain to you just why I did what I did, but for now, please accept my apology and allow me to try and regain your trust."

Harry glowered at him for a moment. Despite all the horrible things Josef had done, Harry couldn't ignore everything he had done over the last few days.

"Does the Brotherhood know you're here?" Harry asked, hoping he might get some answers before hearing the price he would need to pay for more.

Josef paused for a moment, no doubt recognizing Harry's tactic. "Yes, they know I am here," he answered. "I have been sent by the Brotherhood, though not by the Brotherhood you knew. It is a new Brotherhood without the fear and corruption you experienced."

"A new Brotherhood," Harry repeated. "A better Brotherhood. A stronger Brotherhood. So you've gotten what you wanted all along: A Brotherhood led by you, your own little cult and a country to hide it in."

A small smile broke across Josef's face. "No, Harry. Dragomir has been appointed to take Grigore's place after his... disappearance. He has named Andros to take my place as Captain of the Guard. Nearly all of the Brotherhood has accepted this. Those who haven't... will be dealt with," Josef explained, adding, "Do not allow yourself to feel pity for them. They feel none for you, but they are our responsibility and we will handle them in our own way."

"And when you're done with that, you'll go back to destroying villages and protecting criminals?"

"Are you so blind?" Josef asked sharply. "Do you think that we convinced the other members in a matter of _hours_ with nothing more than Dragomir's charming personality? No, Harry. The Brotherhood is pure because for the first time in its history, it has _seen_ what it has been fighting to protect the world from."

"And just what is that?" asked Harry.

Josef gave him a curious look. "You do not know?" he asked doubtfully. "After all of this, you still do not know what our purpose is?"

"I was never interested in Grigore's fairy tales," Harry said coldly.

Josef's eyes locked on Harry's. "You should be. They are very interested in you."

"So long as you lot do your job, I shouldn't have to be, should I?" Harry replied, feeling even less comfortable. "That's Dragomir and Andros's job now. So just what part do you play? Chief Errand Boy?"

"I have accepted a lesser role in the Brotherhood, if that is what you mean to ask," he answered with the diplomatic formality that had always annoyed Harry. "I no longer enjoy my time at Orasul-de-sus. I do not enjoy the memories of my past. I will serve them as I have promised, but I have no desire to remain in Romania."

"So that's why you were ordered to talk to me?" Harry asked with some amusement. The idea of Josef falling from Grigore's lieutenant to some sort of courier did ease Harry's mood a little.

"No, I was _asked_ to deliver news and gifts from the Brotherhood to you. My _orders_ were to speak to someone else."

"Someone else?"

"I need to speak to Ginny, Harry," Josef said clearly. "That is my duty and seeing her safe and protected is the only thing I ask for in exchange for your time."

"Why her?" Harry asked, suddenly suspicious. "Why aren't you worried about Ron or Hermione?"

"The biggest threat to Miss Granger is from her own Ministry, and I can already see that Mr. Weasley is doing quite well enough." He nodded back toward Number Twelve. Harry cautiously turned his head and saw Ron standing in the doorway with his wand in his hand. "May I speak with Ginny, Harry? Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley may accompany her. It is useless to try and tell only one of you any piece of information."

"Then tell me and I'll relay the message,"

Josef frowned. "I'm afraid that is not good enough."

Harry crossed his arms. "Well that's all you're getting. Thanks to your mates, Ginny's got every Death Eater thinking up plans to separate her from her blood."

"The Death Eaters know nothing," Josef announced as he reached into his pocket. He retrieved a crumpled roll of parchment and handed it to Harry. The parchment was wrapped around something long and narrow. It was singed along one side, but the black ribbon binding it was still tied tightly. Harry ripped the ribbon and unrolled the parchment.

It was a note, written in flowing script and addressed to Nott. Wrapped inside it was Voldemort's wand. Harry quickly read the message. It was just what Grigore had said it was, but it had never reached its destination.

"Since you did not accept the discarding of my wand, or my indifference to the brandishing of your wand, or my willingness to answer your questions, would you accept this as a show of faith? I wish only to speak with her."

"She doesn't have a wand," Harry argued.

"A problem I wish to remedy," replied Josef.

Harry pondered the situation for some time. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to stun Josef, rifle his pockets for whatever he had been sent to deliver and then disappear with Ginny. She would go with him. She had already resolved herself to a life of running from the Death Eaters. He looked down at the parchment in his hands, and knew that it wouldn't be fair. She didn't have to run, and maybe he didn't either. He had taken many risks over the last year, but he knew that he owed this to Ginny. He owed her a chance at a normal life. His eyes met Josef's and he nodded.

Harry turned around and waved to Ron to walk out with him. Ron walked down the steps and began walking toward them cautiously. His wand was held out in front of him, and he was walking with the same tense alertness that Harry had a few minutes ago. Harry could see Hermione's silhouette in the doorway and he could tell that she was talking to someone. He motioned to her, but she didn't move.

Short of shouting at them and testing the ward Josef had cast, Harry knew of only one way of convincing them. Josef watched silently as Harry purposefully slipped his wand into an inside pocket of his robes. He turned around and stood at Josef's side. Ron had frozen in the middle of the street with his wand raised and a bewildered look on his face.

"Put your wand away, Ron," Harry told him. "There's no danger."

Ron relaxed a little and dropped his wand into a pocket very near his right hand. He waited a moment to see that Harry hadn't changed his mind, then turned back to Hermione and shrugged. Again, Harry motioned for them to walk to the pavement.

Tentatively, Hermione stepped out of the doorway and climbed down the steps. When she'd reached the edge of the street, she turned back and nodded to the open doorway. Ginny emerged from the darkness slowly. The sun flashed off her hair as her head turned about to search the area. Seeing no danger, she slowly descended the steps.

"Grigore would have done anything for her," Josef whispered. "He admired her almost as a daughter." Harry turned to see a look of relief cross Josef's face. "He said her only flaw was her failure to see how flawed everyone else is."

"Then he never should have gotten her involved," Harry replied quietly. "Look what he's done to her."

"You're wrong, Harry," Josef replied even more quietly. "She finally perceives the true nature of the world. It is the greatest gift he could have given her."

* * *

Ginny could see Josef and Harry whispering to each other as she walked across the street. A Muggle car had only narrowly missed her, and when she looked up again, she saw Josef smiling at her. 

"What are you two talking about?" Ginny asked as she stepped up onto the pavement.

"You," Josef answered simply, causing Ginny to blink at his surprising honesty.

"Do I get to know what you were saying?"

"No," he replied evenly.

Ginny frowned at him and Harry. With narrowed eyes, she looked back at Josef. "Then why am I here? Why are _you_ here?"

"I have something you will want," Josef said in an overly official tone. "He reached into a pocket and pulled out a wand. He grabbed it by the tip and offered the handle end to Ginny.

She took it with a look of deep confusion. "How did you—" she mumbled as she inspected it. "But they took it. How—"

"As you said, _they_ took it and I am one of _them_," explained Josef. "Of course I presume you mean the Brotherhood. Continuing on that assumption, let me assure you that the Brotherhood is not your enemy." He cast a quick glare at Harry to preempt any comment he might make.

"They're not my enemy," said Ginny, "but are they Harry's enemy?"

"A wise question," Josef remarked. "The Brotherhood —the Brotherhood as it _should_ be— is not an enemy to anyone. We are protectors and maintainers. I will not lie to you. We have killed wizards, and I cannot say that we will not need to do so again. We have helped many good wizards and we have helped many evil wizards, but in all cases our goal is to protect the world from a much greater atrocity."

"Yes, and Tarus believed that atrocity's name was Harry Potter."

"It appears that some members of the Brotherhood might have been mistaken," admitted Josef. "Recent events have caused us to reevaluate our purpose and methods for fulfilling our goals."

Ginny gripped her wand and raised an eyebrow. "You're not answering my question."

"You have asked a question which has no answers, only explanations. Perhaps you would be more satisfied by hearing that the Brotherhood has no desire or plans to seek out Mr. Potter."

"But that might change?" Ginny prompted. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hermione and Ron exchange surprised looks. After dealing with Harry and Tarus, handling Josef felt almost easy.

She could see Josef had noticed as well. He was trying keep a smile from ruining his mask of formality. "Due to Harry's —pardon me— Mr. Potter's history and his well established nature as a wizard, it is likely that he and the Brotherhood might... be involved in some dispute. However—" Josef added quickly when he saw Ginny's stance stiffen, "—I promise you that we will seek to resolve these disputes without the use of wands."

"Is there some reason for this change?"

"I regret to report that there was an... incident last night at the castle residence of the Romanian Minister. He had agreed to host a... social gathering of a number of Romanian officials and a number of their close friends. During the event, a magical artifact malfunctioned. I am afraid that the Minister was seriously injured."

"Seriously injured?" Ron nearly shouted. "Losing a leg is a serious injury. He was dragged into a black abyss of death! Are you saying he survived somehow?"

Josef ignored Ron's question. "Grigore Tarus is currently being attended to by the best Healers in eastern Europe, however, I'm afraid he is not taking visitors at the moment. One of his close aides, Dragomir Debreczeni has agreed to see to various affairs and duties until Minister Tarus returns to health."

Ginny looked doubtful. "And how long will that be?"

"The Healers believe it may take two weeks, perhaps three," Josef answered comfortably. "However, they are quick to remind anyone who asks that Minister Tarus's injuries are very serious and his condition may worsen at any time."

Ginny took a moment to think about what Josef had said. Tarus was dead. She had seen it. Harry had told her about how Sirius had died. There was no recovering from that fate. No one could be brought back. Josef was lying —or perhaps he was simply reciting a message. Judging by his stiff, unnatural tone, it was almost certainly the latter.

"If —tragically— such a turn of events were to occur," continued Josef, "your position as Liaison to Romania would be suspended, and you could be questioned about anything you had seen or heard since the... incident. It would take some time for the next Minister to arrange another agreement."

"You were sent to deliver this message?" Ginny asked. Josef nodded. Ginny paused for a moment, then continued: "Who sent you? Why am I interested in this?"

"I was sent by Mr. Debreczeni. He felt that it was important that Romania, as a strong supporter of international cooperation among wizards, share this news with its friends in Britain, due in part to the fact that some British wizards were in attendance, and also due to the recent strides taken to forge a bond between Romania and Britain. He did not want the British Ministry to feel that that bond would be broken."

Ginny let out a short laugh. "I don't think the Ministry really cares if that bond is broken."

"I apologize," Josef said with a small bow. "My mastery of the English still fails me at times. What I meant to say is that Mr. Debreczeni does not want the British Ministry to believe the Romanian Ministry will tolerate the severing of that bond. Was that easier to understand?"

Ginny nodded. The message was pretty clear. "Perhaps you can pass a message back to Mr. Debreczeni telling him that I don't work for the Ministry of Magic anymore. I've got a band of dark wizards who need me to prove that they really can't resurrect their old master."

Without saying a word, Harry handed her the parchment and wand. Ginny felt a wave of relief wash over her. The idea of being forced to spend the rest of her life running from the Death Eaters didn't sound at all appealing. She knew that Harry had spent his whole life doing just that, but somehow it felt so much worse thinking they would be looking for her as well.

"Despite that, it might be best if you found someplace safe to hide," Josef said. "Despite the confidence of our Healers, I seriously doubt Minister Tarus will recover. I also suspect that you will return to your job by the start of the next week."

"How do you plan on doing that?" Ginny asked.

Josef smiled. "Romania has influential friends."

"What about the rest of us?" Hermione asked. "What good will it do to keep Ginny quiet if the Ministry can just interrogate the rest of us?"

"These questions have already been answered, Miss Granger," he replied. "No one will ask Mr. Weasley because no one will know that he was there. Harry will not be asked, because he is presumed dead and it would be best if he remained that way for the time being. And none of the wizards in the Department of Mysteries will ask you, because they will already know the truth."

Josef reached into another pocket and drew out Hermione's wand. He handed it to her. "Like Ginny, you should remain in hiding for the present until everything is prepared. Then, you will return to your job and you will return Voldemort's wand with you. Reynard will be told what has happened and there will be nothing more he will need to learn from you. His arrogance and greed will keep him from letting anyone else know."

Ginny frowned. "So that's it then?" she asked. "We wait a week, go back to our jobs and pretend that none of this happened? What _did_ happen? How did Tarus die?"

Josef's face fell, and Ginny thought for a moment he looked frightened. "I don't think I know the words to describe what happened," he began. "Grigore was killed by the thing which he had been trying to protect the world from."

"What is it?"

"It is the Brotherhood's responsibility, now, and we will do all that we can to see that it is kept safe and secret. I do not know yet just what your role in this story will be, but I know this is not the last we will see of each other."

He nodded to Ginny and the others. "I must go. I have a lot of work to do. Stay hidden. I will contact you when it is safe. Have patience. I promise it will not be long."

Josef bent down to retrieve his wand, then turned and walked toward the darkened alley. As he pulled his hood up over his head he called out one last time.

"See that Harry gets some rest," he told her. "He looks exhausted."

* * *

**Author's Notes**: 

And thus ends the first story in the trilogy. I hope everyone enjoyed it. The next part is named Amulet of Stone, and I've already started it. I will begin posting it on soon, but until then those of you who are impatient can read the chapters early by going here:

http/ are two chapters checked and posted and two more waiting in beta (as of 2006-06-14). If you're fine with waiting, you might consider re-reading this story. Once you know the full story, there a re a number of scenes which take on a drastically different meaning. And, of course, feel free to email me any comments or questions you might have. The story is for entertainment, but I expect it will be more enjoyable if you understand what is going on.


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